


One for All

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Pack Bonding, Pack Building, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Protective Pack, Sassy Erica, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Bromance, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Takes Care Of The Pack, Vernon Boyd & Derek Hale Friendship, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-04-29 11:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Peter Hale and Kate Argent laid dead in the earth.  Derek became the Alpha, stripping Peter of his powers.  Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Jackson Whittemore, and Isaac Lahey were now werewolves.  Derek seemed to be building a brand new Pack for Beacon Hills.  Scott’s control was waning, with no Alpha or girlfriend to anchor him.Life couldn’t get worse for Stiles Stilinksi."After taking the bite in order to help Scott find an anchor after Peter's death, Stiles finds himself as the newest member of Derek Hale's Pack.While trying to bind together the group of misfits, each suffering from their own brand of despair, Stiles becomes more to the Pack than just another werewolf.  He becomes the heart of the pack and the Right Hand of the Alpha himself, with all the power and responsibilities that come with it.Yet, as Stiles navigates the complexities of living the everyday life of a werewolf, he finds himself as the target of a force greater than he could have ever imagined.  A force, unknowingly to him, responsible for the atrocities not only to his own family but to the family of his newfound Mate.Like hell would Stiles let that stand.





	1. One for One

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [One for All [Traduccion]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582712) by [yuki_yuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuki_yuki/pseuds/yuki_yuki)



Peter Hale and Kate Argent laid dead in the earth.  Derek became the Alpha, stripping Peter of his powers.  Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Jackson Whittemore, and Isaac Lahey were now werewolves.  Derek seemed to be building a brand new Pack for Beacon Hills.  Scott’s control was waning, with no Alpha or girlfriend to anchor him.

Life couldn’t get worse for Stiles Stilinksi.  Stiles found himself stuck, on a Saturday night, watching his best friend thrash against a mountain ash barrier in the middle of the woods, while roasting wieners for their most recent sausage fest. 

The full moon shimmered in the midnight sky, illuminating the forest surrounding them.

“Let me out!  Let me out now, or I’m going to kill you, Stiles!”  Scott snarled, smashing his muscular arms against the barrier.  In a partial shift, Scott had the jutted face of a wolf, with mutton-chops down each side of his face, and a sharp, flared nose.  His claws scratched the barrier, roaring with his fangs in full view, chomping in Stiles’ direction.  “Let me out!”

Stiles sighed, pulling a hot dog out of the fire with a stick, to see if it was fully cooked.  “Yeah, not going to happen, Scotty.  If I let you out, you’ll murder someone, and guys like you don’t do well in prison.  All that hair, and that kind of ass?  Yeah, no, you’d be someone’s bitch in no time.”  He tossed the hot dog into the barrier, where Scott caught it in his mouth, ripping it to shreds as he feasted. “Not that you’d make it into prison.  Derek or one of Chris Argent’s men would kill you before that happened.  Or worse, my dad would have to put you down.  God that would be awful…  You know how much he loves you, Scotty-boy.

Finishing off his food, Scott’s face twisted into a painful snarl, baring his teeth at Stiles.  He lunged forward, slamming up against the barrier, again and again with his shoulders, as he screamed profanities at the top of his lungs.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you hate me.  You wish I were dead, and want to rip my throat open.  I heard you the last four months in a row.”  Stiles’ hand trembled as he reached down for another hot dog, forking it on a twig.  He started cooking up another one, wiping the mist from his eyes.  “It’s okay.  You’ll apologize in the morning like you always do.  We’ll hit up breakfast at the diner, and have a long Sunday sleeping all of this off.  Just like always.”

The hours passed on with little change in Scott’s demeanor, lots of food cooked and fed to shut up Scott’s consistent death threats, and a few swigs of the whiskey he’d snagged from his father’s cabinet.

Just as Stiles’ eyes began to flutter shut, a rustling bush shot him up from the campfire.

“Who’s there?”  Stiles grabbed the pistol from his holster, pointing it in the direction of the noise.  While he’d never claim to be Chris Argent’s “friend,” not after everything the Hunter had done to Scott, the man at least saw it fit arm Stiles with “protection” if Scott were to ever lose it, and the training on how to use it properly.  A high-powered tranquilizer, capable of downing an elephant, with even a grazing shot.    

Appearing out of the forest was none other than the new Alpha of Beacon Hills, Derek Hale.  Since becoming the Alpha, Derek’s muscular figure had expanded, making him an absolute beast of a man.  Pectorals the size of cantaloupes, and legs that could double as housing foundation. 

Yet, as he stepped into the campfire, he rose both hands, offering a flattering smile that complemented his scruffy handsomeness.  “Relax, I’m not here to cause any trouble.  I’m here because I sense my Beta’s struggle with control.  Seems to be especially bad tonight.”

Lowering the gun, Stiles turned around, glancing at Scott.  The wild wolf calmed immediately in the presence of an Alpha.  Hell, Scott’s head bowed down, crouching in a submissive position, whimpering with his metaphorical tail between his legs.  Stiles bit his bottom lip.  If Scott were in any kind of control of himself, he would never bow down to Derek Hale, of all people.  “Peter bit Scott.  How does that make you his Alpha?  More importantly, how do you sense that sort of thing?”

Striding next to the campfire, Derek took a seat on the nearest log.  He sighed.  “Ownership of Betas transfer upon death.  Peter’s Betas became my Betas.  Just like when my mother passed on, and I became my Sister’s Beta.  As for sensing his mental state, it’s a gift I’m learning now that I have a Pack.  I can’t read minds, but I can sense what my Betas are feeling.  For example, right now Jackson must be having sex because he’s incredibly happy right now.”

“Lovely.  Just what I needed to hear right now.  Of course, sir douche is getting laid on a Saturday night while I’m stuck dog sitting.”  Stiles holstered his gun, plopping down on the log opposite Derek.  He shoved another hot dog on a stick, tossing one to Derek.  “So, if you can feel what Scott feels, mind telling me why he hates your guts and how we can get beyond that?  Because I’d really appreciate not having to do this every full moon for the rest of my life.”

Derek sighed, roasting his hot dog over the fire.  “I did a poor job trying to help him after he got bit.  Told him the wrong things, tried to get him to accept everything he was, without considering his feelings.  I was in a bad place back then, trying to avenge my sister’s murder.”  Dropping his head, Derek snuck a peek at the sniveling werewolf off in the mountain ash.  “I wasn’t an Alpha.  Hell, I wasn’t a good person.”

“You are now?”  Stiles rolled his eyes, popping a marshmallow in his mouth.  “No offense, but I watched you murder your Uncle in cold blood.  Not exactly a great image to put in my head, even if Peter was a nightmare.”

Shrugging, Derek pulled the hot dog off the fire, forcing the entire thing into his mouth, shredding it with his fangs.  “Wouldn’t say I’m a Saint, exactly.  I’m trying, though.”  He glanced up, staring Stiles right in the eyes.  “Should I have let Peter live?  What would you have done, given the situation?”

Stiles folded his arms, glancing up at the clear night sky.  He thought about Derek’s position, the Alpha's dead family and his last living relatives killing each other.  After a long pause, Stiles shook his head.  “No.  Peter wouldn't have answered for his crimes under the law.  I doubt he would have let you and Scott go free and would have tried to take both of you over.  He needed to die, but-“  Stiles paused, wanting to verbalize that Derek shouldn’t have been the one, but then that would have meant Scotty…  No, that wasn’t something he would have ever wanted to put Scott through.

“I’m surprised you think like that.  Despite your outward appearances, you’re rather mature for your age.”  Derek smiled, faintly.

“My mom’s dead, my dad’s a drunk off-hours, and my best friend turns into a homicidal wolf-man once a month.  I had to grow up pretty fast.”  Stiles tossed his stick into the fire, watching it crumble into cinders.  “What do you think would make Scott join you, so he could get some real wolfy boot camp.”

Derek rose an eyebrow.  “Excuse me?”

“Listen, I’m not going to lie.  I can’t keep doing this.  Scott’s my brother, but one of these days, I’m going to screw up and not make the ash barrier right, or he’ll go crazy before I can get to him.  Then you’ll have to kill him, or Chris will, and I can’t deal with that mental image.  I’ve lost enough people in my life, I’m not losing Scott.”  Stiles stood up, striding over to the mountain ash ring that kept Scott in check.  The wolf continued to whimper, scared shitless of the Alpha in his presence.  "Look at him, Derek.  He’s not human right now.  If he weren’t in that barrier, or if you weren’t here to turn him into a simpering puppy, he’d probably try to kill me or anyone else in the area.  What little control he had before Peter’s fiasco went the way of the dodo bird, and it’s not coming back.”

“You’re not wrong.”  Derek tossed his own stick into the fire, side-eying Scott’s pitiable sight.  “Scott needs an anchor. It’s possible for him to find another anchor as he found in Allison, or for him to anchor himself.”

“We don’t have time for him to learn that.  I love Scott, but he’s a stubborn asshole, just like me.  He’s going to mourn losing Allison for the next year and a half, and unless something serious happens to him, he’s not going to change.“ Stiles looked away from Scott, stepping towards Derek, and standing over the Alpha, glaring right into the man’s sharp red eyes. 

“An Alpha can also anchor any werewolf, as I’m doing now.  Though it comes at the risk of Scott going feral, as Peter attempted to do that night at the gym.”  Derek shook his head.  “Of course, when he’s human, there’s little chance he’ll listen to me, and it’ll only worsen his control in the end.”

Nodding, Stiles paced around the campfire.  “You’re right.  Any other options, or am I royally screwed?”

Derek stood up, about a foot taller than Stiles since becoming an Alpha.  Folding his arms, Derek kept his gaze firmly on Stiles.  “Another option is a member of my Pack to act as his anchor.  Whether he likes it or not, Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson are his brothers, and Erica is his sister.  They share the same blood.”

“Who are you suggesting?  Because in case you missed it, nobody in your pack particularly likes Scott.”  Stiles rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself.  “Hell, the only person he’ll even talk to about this kind of stuff is-“  Stiles paused, as a sharp chill went down his spine.  He turned, meeting Derek’s smug smile.  “Me.”

“Which is why you take the bite and become a member of my Pack.”  Derek smiled, planting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, gripping it tightly.  “I get another wolf for my ranks, you become strong enough to protect yourself, gain your freedom from dog-sitting every full moon, and Scott gets an anchor that shares my blood, so he can learn control.  Everyone wins.”

Stiles chuckled, slapping away Derek’s hand.  “Figured this was where this conversation was heading.”

“Do you object?”  Derek stepped back to the campfire, warming his hands by the flickering flames.  “You’d make a good werewolf.  Even as a human, you’ve already proven yourself to be a powerful force to be reckoned with.  After all, you sent me to prison, broke a baseball bat over my Uncle’s head, and knew the signs of a werewolf in the beginning before Scott even knew what was going on.”

“I don’t.”  Stiles shrugged, slumping down by Derek on the campfire log.  “I figured this would happen to me eventually, anyway.  I wanted to avoid it, to be honest, but-”  Stiles sighed.  He took one last look at Scott’s trembling wolfish figure.  “Scott’s my brother.  I’d do anything for him.  Power or no power, I would have done it anyway.  Just-”  He grabbed Derek by the collar, staring the Alpha right in the eyes.  “You swear to me on your life that this will anchor Scott.  If I find out you’ve lied to me, I’ll do everything in my power to make your life miserable.  Like I told you before, I’m not afraid of you.”

Derek smiled.  “I swear to you on the honor of my family name that Scott finds an anchor in you if you take the bite.”  He held his hand out, to Stiles.  “Do you accept my offer?”

“Yeah.”  Stiles let go of Derek’s collar, shaking the Alpha’s hand.  “Should we get started?”

“If you’re ready, we can begin.  This will knock you out for the rest of the night.  Don’t worry about Scott, I’ll keep him in check until dawn.”  Derek and Stiles separated, with Derek guiding Stiles to an empty spot around the camp clearing.   “Take off your shirt and lay down.  Try to relax if you can, it helps the first transition.”

Stripping off his shirt, Stiles fell backward into the grass.  He took a deep breath, staring up at the night sky.  Shivering, Stiles felt the cold air on his exposed skin.  He gulped when Derek knelt beside him, in his shifted form, a terrifying sight of fangs and blood red eyes.

Derek pressed his warm hand against Stiles’ chest.  “Relax, Stiles.  This won’t hurt a bit.”

“Somehow, I seriously doubt this isn’t going to hurt.  So don’t lie to me asshole, or I’ll-“ 

Before he could finish the sentence, Derek’s fangs sank into Stiles’ neck.  A warm sensation flooded through Stiles’ bloodstream, spreading to every appendage in his body.  The world turned a blur of red and grey.  Ever fiber in his body trembled, forcing him into a convulsing mess on the ground.  He shot up, pushing past Derek with a mighty roar, and dashing off into the depths of the forest.  Stiles’ vision blurred into the red before he lost all sense of himself.

 

++++++

 

The chirping of birds was the first thing Stiles heard as his eyes fluttered open.  Dawn had broken quite a while ago if the sun high in the sky was any indication.

“You’re awake.” 

Groaning, Stiles sat up.  His muscles ached in all the wrong ways, as though he’d been put through some horrible medieval torture.  Glancing down at his naked figure, through the shredded remains of his clothes, his arms and legs had grown out, with the added benefit of newfound muscles adding a good twenty pounds to his lanky figure.  To the side of a puddle, he caught sight of his eyes, glowing a sharp, venomous gold.

“Where-“  Stiles held his head, where a massive headache was forming.  “Where am I?”

Striding to Stiles’ side was Erica Reyes, a strong, busty figure with flowing blond hair down to her shoulders.  Chomping on an apple, she bent down to Stiles’ side, wrapping her leather-clad around Stiles’ shoulders.  “Well, pumpkin, after you got bitten, you went on a nice long run, which surprised the hell out of Derek, so he had me and the rest of the pack track you down while he kept an eye on Scotty-boy.”  Grinning, Erica leaned over, pressing a kiss on Stiles’ cheek.  “No worries, though.  You’re about twenty miles from Beacon Hills, sweetie.  You were way faster than any of the pack, so we had to take turns following your backside.  Not that I minded staring at your pale little butt all night, but honestly, I had no idea you were that athletic underneath that tiny little body.”

Stiles coughed at the sudden horrible taste in his mouth, spitting out what appeared to be a hunk of…  Something he didn’t want to know the answer to.  “Did I…  Oh God…”  His voice trembled at the thought of…

Erica laughed, patting Stiles on the back, running her long fingernails through Stiles’ thick brown hair.  “You had a nice little snack on a poor buck, but kept away from civilization.  Hell, it looked like you were trying to get as far away from Beacon Hills as possible.  All in all, an enjoyable night for everyone involved.  A lot better than when Jackson took the bite, that little fucker tried to chomp on every campsite we came across.”

“Good.  I-  Ow!”  As Stiles tried to stand the muscles in his legs cramped, throwing him back to the ground with little grace.  He groaned, rubbing out the cramp.

“The first shift is always the most painful, honey-butt.  You’ll be sore for a few days, but the worst is over, and you’ll grow into your new body soon.  Nice muscles, by the way.  Very cute, it suits you...”  Erica helped Stiles up, shouldering most of the new Beta’s weight. 

Suddenly aware of his nudity, and the surprising lack of modesty in his head in realizing he didn’t care who saw him, Stiles cleared his throat, blushing.  “Thanks?”

“Come on, peppermint, let’s get you back home.  Derek’s waiting for you at his apartment.”  Erica guided Stiles through the woods until they finally spotted a road just about ten minutes from where Stiles had woken.

Isaac Lahey, stood next to a slick black Camaro, holding an armful of clothes as he waited for Stiles and Erica’s return.  He chuckled, running to the forest’s edge to hand off the clothes to Stiles.  “Here you go, man.  You and I look about the same size.  Though I better get those back, that’s one of my favorite outfits.”

“Thanks.”  Stiles quickly dressed, trying to ignore Erica and Isaac’s giggles and wayward eyes.  “Did Scott make it home safe?”

Erica and Isaac exchanged a peculiar glance, accompanied by a sharp, moldy scent that hit Stiles’ nostrils.

“He’s…  Well, he’s”  Isaac stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I mean, physically, he’s fine.  Totally a-ok, he’s back at our place right now with Derek.”

Stiles glared at the two, as a low growl echoed from the bottom of his throat.  “What happened?”

Isaac chuckled nervously, backing away as he held up both hands.  “I mean…  Nothing TERRIBLE, it’s just-“

Erica rolled her eyes, shoving Isaac out of the way, huffing under her breath.  “Scotty-poo’s in time out.”

“He’s what?”  Stiles rose an eyebrow, darting glances between Isaac and Erica.  “What did he do to earn a “time out”?”

Isaac fidgeted in place, leaning against the Camaro.  “Well, when Derek told Scott about you taking the bite…  Scott might have flipped out a bit, tried to attack Derek, and then got…”  Shrugging, Isaac offered a sympathetic smile.  “Put in his place?”

“Jesus Christ…”  Stiles brushed past both of the Betas, stealing the car keys out of Isaac’s jacket pocket, before sliding into the driver’s seat.  He revved the engine to life, honking the horn out of impatience.  “Get in!  I need to make sure my best friend isn’t about to get himself killed.”

Mouth ajar, Isaac blinked, double-checking the contents of his pockets.  “Uh…  Yeah, sure, lets’…  Go…”  He glanced back to Erica, gesturing incredulously in Stiles’ direction.

“I like him.”  Erica grinned, licking her ruby-red lips.  She shoved Isaac into the backseat as she took shotgun next to Stiles.  “Let’s go, sugar-biscuit.”

Stiles slammed on the accelerator, roaring the vehicle to life, wheels squealing as he shot off back to Beacon Hills.


	2. One for None

 

Stiles slid into the parking spot just outside a set of new resort-style condominiums on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, slamming the front door, and earning the stink eye from several grannies muttering something of “terrible manners.”    He clambered up the stairs, with Erica and Isaac following at a safe distance behind. 

Stopping just before the floor marked “Hale,” Stiles grabbed the door’s knob and crushed the mechanism, allowing him immediate access into the home.

“Okay, Derek, where is he?  What’d you do with Scotty?”  Stiles stormed inside the condo, teeth flared.  “Is he in a dungeon chained to a wall, did you handcuff him to a radiator, pull a cask of amontillado kind of shtick, leaving him dying in a-“

Stiles took in the sights, jaw-dropping at the dramatic improvement in Derek’s living conditions.  He paused, mouth unable to form a single coherent thought.  From a burned out house with the nonexistent structural foundation to a posh apartment on the outskirts of Beacon Hills’ financial district.  Central heat and air.  A fully furnished living area, with sleek, modern furniture.  A kitchen off in the corner with fancy new appliances, and one of those futuristic fridges you could see through.  A big screen TV took up an entire wall, with a football game blaring in the background.

Jackson Whittemore was laid out on a chaise lounge, of all things, flipping through the pages of a book, sipping tea from a decorative glass. 

Stiles took stock of his Alpha, off in a corner, playing chess against Vernon Boyd on a mahogany dining table.  Neither Alpha nor Beta looked away from their game, as Boyd’s muscular arm gently moved a Queen across the board. 

“Check,” Boyd muttered, with a wide grin crossing his face.  “Mate in four turns.”

Derek swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair.  “Fuck, every damn game with you.”  He glanced up for a moment, before knocking his king over in surrender.  “A dungeon?  Really, Stiles?  We’re on the second floor, for God’s sake.”  Derek stood, slipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a twenty he slipped to Boyd.  “I want a rematch.”  He stopped at Stiles’ side, patting him on the shoulder, gesturing to the nearby hall.  “Scott’s in the guest bedroom.”

Trying not to be impressed by the glitz around him, Stiles folded his arms.  The Beta’s eyes glowed, as fangs popped out from the top of his lips.  “What happened?  You were supposed to watch Scott, not get into a fight with him!”

Sighing, Derek shook his head.  He guided Stiles down the long hallway that connected the six major bedrooms of the condo to the main living space.  “When I explained to Scott that you’d taken the bite to protect him, he tried to attack me.  Scott thought I was lying, and wanted the “truth.”  Derek stopped at the end of the hallway, to a pale blue door.  “So after a short scuffle, I knocked him out and brought him here to recover.  Trust me, the last thing I want right now is you **and** Scott on my bad side.”

Thinking about Scott and Derek’s relationship, and considering Scott had attacked Derek for less in the past, it made quite a bit of sense.  That and, for whatever reason, Stiles knew Derek told the truth.  Call it a “gut” instinct.  Or would that be a wolf instinct now?  Either way, Stiles groaned, rubbing his forehead.  “I can’t leave Scott anywhere without him doing something stupid.”

Derek chuckled.  “Scott’s been awake for a while now; I can hear his heartbeat.  I’m sure he wanted to wait for you to straighten this all out.”

Stiles reached for the door, pausing to turn to Derek.  “Can we have some privacy?”

“As much privacy as you can get in a home full of werewolves with sensitive ears, sure.”  Derek waved, walking off to the living area, living Stiles to his own devices.

With a deep breath, Stiles pushed the bedroom door open.  He peeked inside, only to see a white, minimalistic bedroom with little more than a bed, dresser, and a desk.  In tattered clothes, Scott laid on the bed, curled into a ball, sulking.

Stiles let out a sigh of relief, glad to see his friend in one piece.  “Got in a fight with the big bad wolf and lost, eh?”

“Stiles!”  Scott uncurled, spotting Stiles, and beaming from ear to ear.  He leaped from the bed, wrapping both arms around Stiles’ body with the strength of a bear, knocking them both into the floor.  “I was worried about you!  I woke up this morning, and you weren’t there, I thought I’d…  Then Derek was there, and he said…  He said…  You…  You…  You moron!”

Moving on its own, Stiles’ hand reached up, gently scratching the scalp of Scott’s head.  “Nice thing to call your best buddy.  I mean, if we’re going to compare you against me on the moron scale, then I’m pretty sure it’s tipping to your side buddy, especially after you trying to go toe-to-toe by yourself against an Alpha.  Who’s the real moron here?”  He grinned, pulling them both up from the ground. “I mean, that’s such a mean thing to call your best friend.  Especially now that we’re “wolf brothers,” eh?”  Stiles said, making air quotes in the process.

Scott dropped his head, frowning.  He twiddled his thumbs, side-eying Stiles’ glowing golden eyes.  “Why’d you do it?  Please tell me Derek’s a liar, and you didn’t do this for me.”

“Scott-“ Stiles sighed, leaning against the wall.  He reached over, taking Scott’s hand within his own, gripping it.  “You and I both know you were one step away from turning into a real monster, and I didn’t know how to help you.  I didn’t have a decent choice to make.  It was either do this and keep my best friend or-”  He forced his eyes shut.  “-or lose you.  I couldn’t deal with that thought.  I needed to become your anchor, and that’s all the motivation I needed. ”

“Stiles…  I’m sorry.  I made you do this, and now you’re-“  Tears rolled down Scott’s face.  He stood, pacing the room, wiping away the tears.  “You know there’s no way out of this…  This is…  This is the long haul, buddy.  You’re here for life, part of Derek, and part of this pack.”

“I’m okay with that.”  Stiles stood up, offering up a half-hearted smile.  “I never figured I’d get that far from Beacon Hills, anyway.  I mean, who’s going to take over when my old man retires?  Sure as hell isn’t going to be Jordan Parrish, that dude’s about as clueless as you are.”  He grinned, waving a finger in Scott’s direction.  “Though you owe me, big, buddy boy.”

Scott scoffed.  “Dude, anything.”

“Cool!”  Stiles grinned, walking over to Scott and wrapping his arm around Scott’s shoulders.  “Then you can do me a solid and join the Hale Pack with me and get the training you should have gotten months ago.”

“What?!”  Scott shoved Stiles’ arm away.  “No!  Not going to happen, Derek’s a creep, and Jackson’s an asshole who lives here, too.  I’m not dealing with those bastards!”

“Yeah, you are.”  Stiles thumped Scott on the forehead, glaring right through Scott.  “You’re going to learn how to live as a werewolf, deal with full moons, and stop all those temper tantrums that end up with school property getting destroyed.  So yes, you are living with this pack.  As you said, you owe me “big.”

Scott scoffed, folding his arms.  He hopped back on the bed, sitting cross-legged.  “That’s playing dirty, Stiles.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, plopping next to Scott.  He leaned on his friend’s shoulder, patting Scott on the knee.  “I mean, you can say no, that’s your choice, Scotty, but I swear to God I will guilt trip you every day of my life until you do.”  Stiles fell backward, covering his face and feigning a sobbing noise through his nose.  “Woe is me…  Forsaking my humanity for an ungrateful little shit who won’t do such a simple little favor for me, which is, in reality, a favor for you!“

Reaching over, Scott covered Stiles’ mouth.  He groaned, falling backward, using Stiles’ chest as a pillow.  “Fine!  I’ll do it, Stiles.  I don’t need your long-winded guilt mongering to start, you’ll go on for twelve hours, and I’ll get suckered into this anyway.”  He huffed, burying his face next to Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply.  “I don’t have to like it, though, and I’ll bitch all about it.  You smell a lot better, by the way.  Human, you made me feel a little…  Murdery.  Like you didn’t belong.”

“Good?”  Stiles chuckled, wondering how exactly this had become his life.  He opened his mouth to complain but stopped as he took in a whiff of Scott’s scent.  An odd smell, unlike anything he’d ever smelt before.  Like a musk, something wholly unique, earthy, and intimate and…  Calming.  The smell calmed Stiles’ nerves, giving him a giggly, happy feeling in his gut.  Like he was-  Home?

Was this a “scent,” like he’d heard the pack discussing in the past?

A knock came to the bedroom door.  “If you two finished, may I have a moment?  We need to talk about the long term.”  Derek asked.

Scott growled.

Stiles rolled his eyes, shoving Scott off him.  “Be nice,” he whispered to Scott, thumping his friend on the head.  “Come on in, Derek!”

Derek stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.  “I take it we’re all in an understanding about your living arrangements and free time for the unforeseen future.”

“Reluctantly,”  Scott growled, shooting Derek a dirty glare with shouldering golden eyes.  “You do anything, and I mean, ANYTHING that hurts Stiles, and I’ll make your life a fucking hell, got it?  He just gave his life for me, and I’ll give mine right back.” 

Derek growled, pressing his face right into Scott’s.  “Why would I hurt someone in my pack, dumbass?  Whether you believe me or not, all I care about is protecting my territory and bringing some honor to my sister’s legacy.  Having an unhappy pack makes no sense.”

“Well I’ve seen how your family deals with Pack, and I’m not impressed.  Peter’s sliced up neck and your sister’s mangled corpse tell a pretty ugly story about the Hales,” Scott spat, with all the venom he could muster.

Derek’s eyes flashed red as he balled his hand into a fist.  “You know **nothing,** pup.”

Alpha and Beta grappled, with fangs and claws jutting out, moments away from an all-out brawl.  In each other’s faces, they practically smashed into one and other.

“I said to play nice.  For fuck’s sake, grow up, both of you!  It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and you’re already at each other’s throats!  Jeez!  Don’t make me regret doing this, both of you!”  Stiles pushed in-between Derek and Scott, keeping them both at arm’s length.  He huffed, flashing his teeth at both Alpha and Beta. As tempers began to cool off, Stiles sat both of them down, on opposite ends of the guest bed.  “So what’s the next step, my oh-so gloomy looking stubborn-ass Alpha?”

Derek nodded as his face contorted itself back to a human form.  “We need to have you moved in as soon as possible.  If you’re close to the Pack, it’ll make training and control much easier once you’re all sharing the same scent.  We’ll need to, one way or another, get your parents on board with the idea.” 

Glancing at Scott, Stiles could see the pain visible on his buddy’s face.  Coming out of the werewolf closet with his mother had been challenging.  Of course, watching anyone’s mother break down in tears over their son’s monstrous face would be hard for anyone.  Still, at the very least, Scott maintained a loving relationship with his mother, albeit, strained.

Scott groaned, pouting as he folded both arms.  “Mom is going to kill me.  She thinks I’ve been anchored for months now, and that Stiles and I go camping on the full moon for fun…”

“Well, deal with it.”  Derek stood, striding across the door and slinging it open.  Erica, Isaac, and Jackson fell from the other side, where they’d obviously been listening in on the conversation.  “If you have to be this close to eavesdrop, you need another lesson in hearing focus.  Don’t plan anything for the next four weekends.”  He ignored an outcry of groans, pulling Isaac and Erica from the ground.  “Erica, Isaac, you two go with Scott.  Help him move, and help explain the purpose of the Pack if his mother worries.  Throw on the charm if Mrs. McCall seems hesitant to let him out of the house.”

“Anything for you, Big Bad.”  Erica winked, with a sly grin.

“I was talking to Isaac.  We need charm, not sexual harassment.”  Derek rolled his eyes, shoving Scott into Isaac and Erica’s arms.  “Get going.”

“With pleasure,”  Scott said, stomping out of the house.  The walls shook from the force of the young Beta’s exit.

Stiles chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head.  “I mean…  Scott’s a nice guy once you get to know him.  You’ve just caught him in a bad mood.  For the last year.”

“Uh-huh.”  Derek grabbed Stiles by the shoulders.  “Boyd and I will go with you; I’m guessing your father will be difficult about the whole thing.  Jackson, call in a pizza and wait for the delivery guy, and sit around like the lump you are.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”  Stiles dug in his heels, having little sway in stopping his Alpha.  He laughed, sticking out all of his limbs at the front door, unsuccessfully.    “My dad’s not going to care.  I don’t even think we have to let him know about the werewolf stuff.  I can pack my stuff and be back in a split, seriously, just give me the keys and I’ll-“

Derek forced Stiles out of the door, guiding him down the stairs of his condo.  “I’d rather make sure the Sheriff of Beacon Hills won’t have a problem with his underage son living with a former murder suspect.  You know, call me crazy.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.”  Stiles’ shoulders slumped.

 

+++++

 

Walking into his childhood home, Stiles felt a pang of nostalgia.  He remembered how beautiful the home used to look, with posh hardwood floor, antique staircase, and family photographs lining all of the walls.  A home blasted out of a classic American dream from a time long past.

Nowadays, the dust, cobwebs, and hoard of paperwork from the Sheriff’s office took away from the luster it once knew. 

“Shtyles???”

The drunken Sheriff, half-dressed on the couch surrounded by several empty whiskey bottles didn’t help much either.

Stiles mentally cringed, choosing not to see how his new pack mates reacted to their town’s respected Sheriff.  Instead, he walked to his father’s side, gently pushing Noah Stilinksi onto a pillow, and covering him with one of his mother’s old quilts.  He sighed.   “You drank too much again, didn’t you, Dad?”

“No, no…  I dissn’t.”  Noah coughed, hacking up a lung in the process, shoving Stiles’ face away from him.  He curled into a ball, facing away from Stiles.  “Go shystay with Syschott and Melishha.  Daddysh tired…  Go annoy shem.”

Stiles bit his bottom lip.  This drunken stupor was a bad episode for his father.  He usually stopped after one bottle.  Shaking off the desire to dump him off at the nearest therapist, Stiles cleared his throat.  “I’ll be out of here soon, Dad, I’m staying over with some friends for a while.  Probably a couple of months or longer, but I’ll check on you now and then.  That cool?”

“Yesh, yesh, jusshh…  Go.  I don’t care what shoo do.  Yoursho annoyhing.  Stupid…  Kid.  Tellishing me I drink tooshmuch.”  Noah grumbled.

“Okay.  Go to sleep, dad.  You look terrible.”  Stiles stood up, keeping his head down as he brushed past Derek and Boyd.  He gestured upstairs, stopping at the edge of the staircase.  “Come on, we’ll get my stuff and get out.  Shouldn’t take too long, I need some-“

“Why’d I get the gay shpaz for a kid….  Pain in my assh.  Wish I’d gotten Syscott.”  Noah mumbled, barely above a whisper for a human, but loud enough for any werewolf to hear.

Stiles’ heart sank, freezing into the depths of his stomach.  He cleared his throat, taking the stairs two at a time.  “- need some clothes, my school stuff, and a couple of knick-knacks.”

Rushing into his room, Stiles busies himself stuffing his closet messily into the biggest suitcase he could find.  He tries to shove his luggage shut, with little success.  With each shove Stiles made at edging the stupid bag shut, another inch of his claws exploded. 

Derek stepped in, taking the suitcase from Stiles.  He dumped its contents on the bed, carefully taking each of the wrinkled shirts and jeans, gently folding them one by one.  “Is he always like that, Stiles?”

Stiles grimaced.  He gave up on clothes, moving over to his desk, picking up his school bag and electronic gadgets.  “Just off-hours.  He likes to drink his problems away.  Especially me, because all I do is nag him about his drinking and diet.  So, as I told you, big guy, Dad doesn’t give a damn about where I’m staying.  I mean, doesn’t this explain why a couple of teenagers could go out looking for a dead body in the middle of the night?” 

“That…  Does explain a lot.”  Derek mumbled, halfway done packing Stiles’ clothes.  He reached for the nearby drawers, packing up Stiles’ undergarments and socks.  “No excuse for him to talk to you like that, though.  Pisses me off.”

“Dude’s an ass,”  Boyd mumbled, inspecting Stiles’ comic bookshelf with wide eyes.

Stiles shook his head, sighing.  “He doesn’t mean the things he says when he’s drunk, he’s the world’s most insulting, depressing drunk.  Which is weird when you think about it, because I’m a happy drunk.  I get all giggly and shit.”  Stiles finished up with his school things, tossing Boyd a bag to start helping out with his comic and book collection.  As he did, realization struck.  “Oh shit, I can’t get drunk anymore, can I?  Well, that sucks.  Are there other ways for wolves to get strung out?  Catnip?  Wolfsbane?  Pot?”

“Our metabolism makes most narcotics useless on us,”  Derek smirked, easily snapping Stiles’ luggage shut.  “Which, in your case, I’m guessing is a good thing for our pack.”

Stiles huffed, shaking his head angrily.  “Well, that is unacceptable.  I’m going to have to either start a super-meth-lab or make the world’s most toxic moonshine because like hell is my 21st birthday party not going to involve me getting plastered and doing embarrassing shit.”

With three werewolves, Stiles’ necessities were packed up within an hour.  Each wolf slung several bags over their shoulders with ease, heading down the staircase like pack-mules.  Reaching the bottom, Derek and Boyd made their way on out to Stiles’ Jeep, packing up the backseat with all of his belongings.

Stiles paused at the front door, dropping his stuff to the ground.  He walked back into the living room, where his father’s loud snoring forced Stiles’ new ears to wince from the noise.  Shaking off the pain, Stiles bent down to his father’s side, wrapping his arms in a warm hug.  “Love you, Dad.  Stay safe, alright?  I know you’ll call if you get worried, but you won’t…  Maybe someday, though…  Maybe someday.”  Releasing Noah, Stiles stood back up, picked back up his belongings, and shut the door to his childhood home behind him.

Once and for all.

 

 


	3. One for Some

By the time Stiles and Scott unpacked into the guest bedroom, they’d been sharing after their mutually traumatic “goodbyes” with their parents, and lack of sleep from their weekend excursions, neither were much in the mood for conversation, falling straight into their shared bed.

The sound of the front door slamming woke Stiles that next morning.  He grumbled, reaching out for Scott’s warm body to take care of the terrible chill in the air.  Unfortunately, he met nothing but the fabric from the covers, and a side pillow. 

“Scotty?”  Stiles rose up from the bed, stretching out in nothing but his boxer shorts.  He glanced around their messy room, still stacked with boxes from Scott’s place, with not a lot of furniture to store anything.  “Come on Scotty, where are you?  It’s probably time for school…“

Stiles picked up his phone, the teen’s jaw dropped as he saw the time.  He had precisely 10 minutes to make himself presentable and get halfway across town in the ungodly traffic jam of their small town roads.  “Fuck!” 

Stiles ran around his room, throwing on the closest thing that looked clean, grabbed his backpack, and charged out of his room, down the hallway and into the living room.  He met Derek on the way, who yanked Stiles by the collar, halting his forward progress.

“Where are you going?”  Derek asked, planting Stiles just before him.

“School?  You know, that thing we all go, from 8 until three every day until we get a diploma?  Hell on earth, fire and brimstone, all that?”  Stiles growled, trying to shove past Derek, with little success.

“Like hell you are.”  Derek grabbed Stiles by the shoulders, holding the Beta in place.  “The first days of the change are when you’re most dangerous.  Until I’m satisfied that you’re in control of your basic facilities, you’re not leaving this house.”  Derek gestured to the living room, where Isaac was curled up in just his boxer briefs, hugging a pillow with gentle snores.   “Isaac’s staying with you today to make sure you stay anchored.  I have other things to do today so that Isaac can show you the basics of sound and smell control.  He’s my best man for the job.”  Reaching into his back pocket, Derek grabbed his wallet, furnishing a credit card into Stiles’ hands.  “Sometime today, take this and order whatever you want on Amazon for your room.  Gadgets, furniture, whatever you need, but try and keep it reasonable.  Buy for both you and Scott; I don’t trust him with my money.”

“Skip school, sleep in, and go shopping on Amazon? Can do, Alpha-man, this is a leader I can get behind!”  Stiles saluted Derek, who rolled his eyes at Stiles, taking care to adjust his buttoned-up shirt and slacks.  This new wardrobe was quite an improvement on the Alpha’s obsession with black and leather.   “Where are you going all nice and dressed up?  Oh my God, please tell me you’re going to work, and you’re like a werewolf accountant!”

Derek sighed, shaking his head, and ignoring Stiles’ fantasy of a professional accountant.  “Breakfast with Mrs.McCall.  Part of the agreement for him moving in was that we’d talk in more detail about his training, and to get more information on our kind.  Scott has been less than forthcoming about his predicament, and I’ve been roped into another clean up by that moron.”

Stiles nodded, reaching up and patting Derek on the shoulder.  “Good man!  A fair bit of warning though, don’t do any talking until she’s had at least two cups of coffee.  Otherwise, she’ll be a little tense.  Trust me; you do not want a tense Mama McCall.”

Scoffing, Derek waved Stiles off.  He grabbed some papers, tucking them into the back of his pants.  “I think I know something about how to talk to women, Stiles.  Or did you forget the talented distraction I gave you at the Sheriff’s department?”  Flashing a flirty smile, Derek winked at Stiles, heading out of the house, laughing as he left.

“Your funeral.”  Stiles rolled his eyes, striding back into the living room where Isaac was starting to stir from his sleep.  He flopped down next to his fellow Beta, yawning in sync with Isaac.  “Mornin’, Isaac!  How’s it’ going?”

“Starving.”  Isaac huffed, leaning on Stiles’ shoulder to use as a makeshift pillow.  “Jackson ate the last of my frozen waffles, the dick.  Those were **mine,** and I wrote my name all over them.”  A loud rumble echoed from Isaac’s stomach, accompanied by a low whine from the Beta.

“Frozen waffles?  Gross, dude.”  Stiles hopped up from the couch, filled with anxious energy, the Beta’s body moving almost of its own accord.  A sensation he got after watching his father eat greasy food, but ramped up a million times more.   “We got any batter or instant stuff, or any ingredients?  I can make us some breakfast.  The good stuff that’ll make Jackson eat his heart out.”

“You can cook?”  Isaac’s sleepy demeanor changed in a heartbeat, the Beta up and off the couch, with a beaming smile, as though he’d been reborn a new person.  “Like, actually cook?  Not just microwave shit?”

A warm flutter of pride grew in Stiles’ chest.  “Dude, I am a killer cook.  You think my old man had the time to make anything for us?  I’ve been fending for myself since I was in elementary school.”  Hobbling into Derek’s (clearly never used) kitchen, Stiles drooled over the cabinet space, the high-end cooktops, and enough pantry space to feed a small platoon.  He rummaged through the cabinets, finding cookware still covered with plastic, virtually untouched.  After a quick trip to the fridge, Stiles grimed.  “Well, I don’t see a waffle iron, but we can do pancakes, bacon, and eggs, which is great because I’m starving.  I’ll add a waffle iron to our list of shit to buy today.  How does that sound?”

Hopping up on the kitchen counter, Isaac grinned.  “Sounds amazing!  Make plenty, though.  I eat a lot more since Derek bit me, and you’ll probably need double what you usually eat too.  Derek says that’s normal; our metabolism got kicked up for all the calories we consume to shift.”  He kicked his feet back and forth, pouting.  “-all we ever make around here is frozen stuff or takeout.  Hell, I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in years.  Not since mom-”  Isaac slammed his mouth instantly shut, glancing away.  “I mean- You know how it is these days.”

A painful tug grew in Stiles’ chest, growing as he watched Isaac’s face fall.  He doubled his efforts in the kitchen, pulling out as much food from the fridge as he could muster.  “Seriously?  Well, fuck that.  Chef Stilinksi is on the case!  Let’s add some sausage and a crap ton of cheese, and upgrade those eggs to an omelet.”

Stiles moved about the kitchen, sizzling bacon, whipping pancake batter into a creamy texture, slicing and dicing vegetables for flavor, frying up some sausage, and prepping the eggs with just a dash of batter.  He snagged a bag of chocolate chips, mixing it in with the pancake batter.

“That smells…  Amazing.”  Isaac leaned on Stiles from behind, peeking over the Beta’s shoulder.   “I’m drooling.”

Stiles grinned, scooping up a pancake with his spatula.  “Here, catch!”  He flipped the pancake up in the air, right at Isaac’s face.

Isaac jumped up, snatching the pancake in his mouth and chomping down on the food.  He moaned, collapsing onto Stiles’ shoulders in ecstasy.  “Dude…  That tastes so fucking good.  Holy shit, why didn’t Derek bite you months ago?”

“Well, there will be plenty more meals where this one comes from, trust me.”  Stiles went back to his cooking, swearing under his breath as a pop of bacon grease stung his hand.  The burning welt healed immediately, but the sting was very real.  “How about you go get dressed or something.  Trust me, dude, popping bacon crease on bare skin hurts, I don’t care if you’re a werewolf or not.  Especially if that gets under your undies.”

“One more for the road?”  Isaac asked, with a hopeful grin.

“Fine.  Go!  Mush!”  Stiles flipped another pancake behind him, which Isaac caught in mid-air as he ran off to the back bedrooms of the condo.

Finishing up breakfast didn’t take long, not when Stiles’ hands and legs seemed to move with a lot more finesse than usual.  He didn’t trip over his own feet, spill anything, and was able to smell the slightest change in the food he cooked, avoiding burns.  Though, more miraculously, he stayed focused on his task.  His mind didn’t’ wander away, or feel like a constant buzz was echoing in the chambers of his mind.  An odd sense of calm he’d never felt before.  What did that mean? 

 _“I don’t have ADHD anymore.”_ Stiles thought as he set the dining room table for breakfast.  For the first time in his life, Stiles’ mind switched “off.”  He beamed, squealing as he jumped up and down in triumph. 

Isaac rejoined Stiles, in a lazy pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt.  He rose an eyebrow at Stiles’ behavior but didn’t say much as he sat down to eat, piling an empty plate with enough food to feed an entire family of four.  “Know what?  I’m not even going to ask.  I don’t give a damn if you’re crazy as long as you keep the food up.”

“Sorry, personal triumph.”  Stiles sat across from Isaac, piling his plate up.   “So, what’s your story?  I feel like I don’t know jack crap about you.  I knew Erica from elementary school, and Boyd’s always been an enigma, but I feel like I should know something about you.”

Isaac shrugged.  “Not much to tell.”  He moaned, popping three slices of bacon into his mouth. “Who taught you how to cook like this?  This food tastes like something at one of those old-fashioned diners!”

“Cookbooks when I was a kid, and YouTube when I grew up.”  Stiles grinned, happy to have someone grateful for his cooking.  His dad had never been that big on praise.  “So why’d you take the bite?  I mean, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Isaac shrugged, popping half an omelet into his mouth.  He groaned, taking quite a while to chew and savor the flavor.  “Personal protection, mostly.  Having Derek as a bodyguard makes my life a lot easier if you know what I mean.”  He leaned over the table, piling his plate with more Bacon and sausage.  “Can you make us dinner, too?  Like, the good kind of dinner that isn't taken out or a frozen pizza?  I fucking love Italian.  That’s not hard, right?  Hell, I’d be fine with spaghetti.”

“Sure.  No problem.”  Stiles rose an eyebrow, putting down his utensils.  Was Isaac avoiding his questions?  “So, you into any sports?  Hobbies?  Can’t believe you’re not playing lacrosse with the rest of us.”

“Hate sports, and hate getting sweaty.  I draw a little, but I suck at it.”  Isaac paused, patting his growing stomach.  He belched, quickly returning to his meal.   “Do you make dessert too?  What’s your favorite stuff to cook?  How about Mexican food?  I also love Mexican food.”

“Yeah, I got a lot of recipes from Scott’s mom.”  Stiles slid his plate aside.  “You okay?  Every time I ask something about you, you change the subject.  Do you guys like to keep secrets from the new guy or something?  Or am I being too nosy?  I mean, yeah, I’m pretty nosy, but this is like smalltalk stuff.”

Isaac paled, swallowing his latest mouthful, blubbering through the bites.  “Oh.  No!  Not at all!  I swear, I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear!”  He choked, downing a glass of orange juice before continuing, dropping his head shyly.  “Sorry.  I don’t like talking about myself, or anything to do with me before the bite.  I’m a werewolf now, and I like to think this is the newest chapter in my life.  That’s all I should care about, you know?  The old Isaac Lahey from before the bite is dead, and I’d like him to stay dead.”

Stiles frowned, just barely able to catch the glazed over sadness crossing Isaac’s eyes. 

The Betas finished breakfast in silence, Isaac doing the majority of the dishes for Stiles when they finished up.  Isaac guided Stiles to the back porch of their condo, where half a dozen yoga mats were sprawled out on the wooden floor, overlooking the entire expanse of Beacon Hills.  The morning sunlight warmed Stiles’ face, despite the autumn chill that ran down his spine.

Isaac plopped down on one of the mats, patting the one next to him.  “Alright, so we’re going to do a little sound training.  You need to be able to expand your hearing, then learn how to pinpoint noises that are out of place.  Sounds complicated, but you’ve got the natural instinct for it, we need to wake it up.  Even Jackson picked this up after a couple of sessions.”

“Okay, sounds cool.”  Stiles flopped onto the mat, crossing his legs and sitting in the same position as Isaac.

Shutting his eyes, Isaac straightened his back, taking a meditative pose.  “Take a deep breath, relax, and empty all of your thoughts.  Just listen to the sound of the city and everything around you.”

Copying Isaac’s pose, Stiles shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and drowned out all of his thoughts.  Slowly, but surely, Stiles’ ears began to pick up the world around him.  Honking horns, construction over on 5th street, the roar of the wind in the trees, and the gentle conversations of the people occupying the other condos around them.

“Can you hear the city?”  Isaac whispered.

Stiles flinched.  Isaac’s “whisper” came in like a bullhorn to Stiles’ ears.  “Yeah.”  The rest of the town’s tempo began to pick up as well.  A honking horn from three streets over pieced Stiles’ eardrum, forcing him to double over.  “It’s…  Loud.”  Birds singing became knives to Stiles’ head, and the jackhammer from a construction site threatened to tear out Stiles’ brain.  “My head’s starting to hurt…  It’s all way too loud, I’m…  Ah!”  Stiles grunted as he felt the bones in his body creak, bringing him to a partial shift.

“Relax, Stiles,”  Isaac whispered, climbing behind Stiles and covering the Beta’s ears.  “That’s the range of your hearing, uninhibited.  Now we need to dial it back, so you can focus on specific noises and not go deaf from this skill.”  He gently uncovered Stiles’ ears, pointing out beyond the balcony.  “Right now, there’s a house just across the street that’s playing Katy Perry in their kitchen.  I want you to pick that noise out, and focus just on that.  Tune everything else out.”

Without Isaac’s hands to dull the noises around him, Stiles flinched again, barely able to make out much else but a low roar of everything screaming at him.  “I can’t…  I feel like my ears are going to bleed, dammit…”  He opened his mouth to scream, which was muffled by Isaac’s shirt stuffed into his face. 

The noise stopped.  Stiles’ shift reversed itself, and he wasn’t overwhelmed by the sound of the city any longer.  His hearing was the same as it’d been in the house, weak and oh so very human.

“Switch shirts with me.  Focus on my scent first, and get your control back.  Then we’ll try again with the sound training.”  Isaac said, the young man’s pale skin shivering in the cold morning air.

Nodding, Stiles slipped off his shirt, handing it over to his packmate.  He then threw Isaac’s shirt over his body, immediately hit by a fresh, floral fragrance.  Like a meadow of flowers, with just the slightest hint of honeysuckle.  In the mix of the sweeter scent, he smelt something that reminded him a lot of Scott, from the base, earthy musk.  Something that bonded both Scott and Isaac together, on some primal level.  Was this the smell of the Hale blood that ran through them all?

“Mmm…”  Isaac hummed, as he threw on Stiles’ shirt.  “You smell like rain.  Love your scent; it’s calming.  I could fall asleep just wearing this.  Derek’s right, the Hale’s natural scent is really like walking into Mother Nature.”  

“Huh?”  Stiles sniffed his arm, barely able to make out much more than the smell of the fabric softener from the bedsheets.

“Oh…  Yeah, I’m supposed to give you a crash course on scents, too.”  Isaac pointed at Stiles’ throat, just barely above the Beta’s neckline.  “From what Derek told me, after the bite, we get a scent gland in our neck that gives each of us a unique smell.  Every member of the pack smells unique, but they all have a same scent “type” that binds them together so that they can find each other.  The Hale pack have natural scents, like something you’d smell out in the wild.  Erica’s got a pine scent of the forest, Boyd smells like the waves on the beach, Jackson’s like a sandy desert, I think Scott’s got some wild animal smell about him, and Derek-“  He snorted, dropping his head to hide a sheepish smile.  “Derek smells like herbs, like something out of a grandma’s garden.  I think it’s cute, but he always growls at me when I say anything.”

Stiles chuckled, flailing backward on the mat in laughter.  “Oh my God, big bad wolf smells like a grandma garden?  Ha!  That is rich!  I’ve got to get a whiff of him later!”  He paused, taking another moment to smell at Isaac’s shirt.  “You’re…  Flowers, right?  I smell flowers, but I might be nose-dead.  I am sharing a room with Scott, the king of the pigsty and dirty laundry.  This smell might be the fabric softener, too…”

“Yeah.  Flowers and honeysuckle.”  Isaac glanced away, facing off towards the sun.  He sighed.  “I got the boring smell in the group.  Jackson says it’s because I’m gay that I got the “fruity” scent.  Derek told him to shut up, but Derek didn’t deny it, either, so I think-”  The Beta slammed his mouth shut, immediately covering his mouth.  His eyes went wide, accompanied by a wild gulp.  “I mean…  I didn’t mean to say-  Well shit…“  A low blush covered his face.  _“Why can’t I shut up around you?”_   He mumbled, barely loud enough for Stiles to hear. 

Stiles grinned, throwing an arm around Isaac’s shoulder.  “You too?  Holy shit, I had no idea I had other brothers out there at school!  We should have been hanging out sooner!  There is nobody anywhere near me to talk about this kind of stuff!  I mean, I tried with Scotty, he’s bi as fuck and sometimes gets me, but he’s always been more into girls than guys, and since the recent Allison fiasco, I do not have the patience with him.”

“Too?”  Isaac’s blush faded, replaced by a pale shock.  “To, as in, you’re-”

“Yeah, dude, I’m gay.  Well, bi, maybe, I did have that massive crush on Lydia as a kid, but like 90% of my fantasies have been about dudes, but I pretty much don’t care at this point, since Lydia’s not into me and probably never will be.”  He pouted at that sad fact, but then again, you can’t help who you love and don’t love.  “I’m also not out about it like Danny is.  I hate having to come out again and again to anyone new I meet, every day of my life.  That’s so annoying, you know?”  His smile faded.  “That, and we live in a small conservative town that would probably ruin my dad’s chance at re-election if they knew the Sheriff’s kid was gay, so I keep on the down-low.  It’s always been better for my dad if I…  I mean, you know.”

 “ _You too, huh?”_   Isaac muttered, quietly, tucking his chin just above his knees.  “My dad’s the swim coach and owns the funeral home, so he’s got an image too, so I…”  He paused, stealing a quick glance at Stiles.  “I’ve never had a chance to talk to someone about this.  You’re the first person I’ve told besides, well, Derek and my dad.”

“Seriously?  How come?” 

“My dad, he-  I mean, it’s just easier if I don’t.  Besides, I’m supposed to be a big, tough werewolf for Derek.  That’s why we do so much training, after all, so I can’t imagine he’d want me…”  Isaac shook his head, huffing.  “I mean, I know my dad hated it when I told him, he got so mad he-“  Isaac slammed his mouth shut again, growling to himself.  “Again, I can’t keep my mouth shut today!  We should get back to your training!  That radio got cut off, so let me focus for a minute and find something for you to anchor onto.” 

While Isaac returned to his meditative pose, Stiles gently slugged Isaac on the side of the shoulder.  “Hey-  You ever want to talk, come find me, alright?  I always had Scotty to listen to me, so I can’t imagine what it’s like having nobody.”

Isaac bit his bottom lip.  “Maybe.  I mean…  I’m not sure how werewolves deal with guys like us.  I mean, I mentioned it to Derek, but he didn’t say anything one way or another.  I don’t want to stir the pot, you know?  I’ve got a good thing going here, and I don’t want to screw that up, even if it means…  You know?”

“Are you insane?”  Stiles scoffed, shaking his head.  “Derek is our Alpha.  He wanted us; then he has to deal with us as we are, no matter what.  You shouldn’t have to hide who you are around him, or he’s not worth your damn time.”

Isaac turned away from Stiles, huffing.  “Take a deep breath and open your ears, Stiles.  We need to get this down today, or you can’t go back to school.  Trust me, when that bell rings, you’re going to want excellent control in your hearing.”  His posture suggested the prior conversation was over.  Stiles knew that look all too well from years of dealing with Scott.

“Fine.”  Stiles struck a meditative pose, shutting his eyes.  “This isn’t over though.  You can damn well bet on that.” 

 

+++++

 

Four hours of meditation training later, and Stiles found that Isaac had been right all along.  Stiles’ instincts as a wolf took over quickly after running through Isaac’s training exercises, and he soon could make out the difference between the normal sounds of Beacon Hills, and sounds of warning.  He’d need a lot more training before he could do much in the way of tracking, but Stiles could at least leave the house without his ears bleeding.

The rest of the day Stiles spent on memorizing the scents of his pack.  Unfortunately, it meant rummaging through the dirty laundry of Erica, Boyd, Derek, Jackson, and Scott and sniffing their things repeatedly for hours on end, but before long, he got the gist of the Hale Pack.  They’d work on tracking with Derek at a later time, given that Isaac wasn’t allowed to take Stiles out of the house.

As dusk settled over Beacon Hills, the pack returned from their after-school activities, while Stiles and Isaac worked in the kitchen for dinner.  Derek wasn’t far behind, slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake the foundation of the entire condo.

After putting the pan of lasagna into the oven and setting the timer, Stiles peeked out into the living room, where Derek threw his boots at the wall, eyes shouldering a crimson red. 

While the rest of the pack immediately retreated to their respective bedrooms, Stiles folded his arms, walking straight up to the alpha with a cocked eyebrow.  “I thought you were having breakfast with Melissa.  It’s nearly dark, where have you been all day?” 

Derek growled, stripping out of his shirt, leaving him in just a white undershirt.  “That woman…  Is infuriating.”  Claws erupted from his fingertips, shredding his shirt into pieces.  The Alpha took pleasure in ripping the remnants, like a stress ball.  “Not ten minutes into our meeting and she flipped the hell out when I told her about our physical training.  As if anything but one-on-one combat training would prepare those wimps for the real world!  I ended up having to physically **show** her everything I had the Betas do, to prove it wasn’t going to injure any of you.  Which got into talking about our healing properties, and an hour-long speech about pain and the human psyche, and just because they can “heal” doesn’t mean they don’t “feel.” 

Derek stormed into the dining room, with steam practically billowing from his body. “Oh, and get this.  That hag took me to a **shrink** of all things, with a three-hour session about leadership and dealing with kids.  Ending with that bitch claiming she would be making **frequent** visits to our home to make sure you’re all taken care of, and if she sensed even a tiny bit of tension, she’d take you all from me, castrate me, and become the Mama Alpha herself!” 

Stiles bit down on his lip until a drop of blood formed.  He had to hold back the laughter at the mental image of big, strong, Derek Hale getting lectured by 5’4 Melissa McCall, and dragged around town for an entire day.  Somehow, Stiles figured even the slighted bit of laughter would be the end of him.

“Who the hell is this woman, Stiles, and why did I put up with any of that?  I am an **Alpha,** and she is a human!”  Derek slammed his fist against the table.  “Not even my mother was that much of a tyrant, Stiles, and no werewolf in this goddamn world would have trifled with my mother!”

Stiles pinched himself to hold back the laughter.  “Told you to let her get her two cups of coffee in.”  He patted Derek on the shoulder.  “I feel your pain though, she’s like a substitute mom for me, and nearly reamed me out for a whole weekend after Scotty, and I got caught with booze.  That’s just Mama McCall.  Learn to deal with her.  You wanted Scott, so put up or shut up.”

Growling, Derek rolled his eyes.  “So I get two McCalls with bad attitudes for the price of one?  Where can I return them?  Or better yet, where can I replace them?”

“Oh shut up, she’s an angel, you don’t know it yet.  She’s like a rose with a million thorns, but the most beautiful blossom of them all!”  Stiles’ grin faded, as the annoying itch in his chest over Isaac’s predicament resurfaced.  He hadn’t been able to relax all day because of it.  “By the way, we got a place we can talk in real private?  Away from peering ears?”

Derek nodded, taking a deep breath.  “As long as the main bedrooms are closed off, they’re all soundproof.  I’ll work on yours this weekend.”  He folded his arms, gesturing to the sealed off rooms in the main hallway, where the pack had run off to hide from Derek’s entrance.  “What do you need?”

Taking a deep breath, Stiles sat up on the edge of the dining room table.  He fiddled with the place settings for dinner.  “You need to talk with Isaac.  Dude is scared of you.”

“Scared of me?”  Derek glared incredulously.  “Why?  I’m his Alpha, and I’ve done plenty to keep him safe.” 

“I mean, not “scared” as in intimated by you, or worried about you gutting him, but “scared” as in, you know, he’s not comfortable around you.”  Stiles gestured to Derek’s exposed shoulders and the dip into a pair of fearsome pectorals that dipped from his undershirt.  “You’re an intimidating guy and his boss-Alpha-guy.  He looks to you for guidance, and you’re doing a pretty shit job of it.”

“Why would he not be comfortable around me?  I-“  Derek paused, chuckling to himself.  He shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “Good God, is this about his sexual orientation?  I thought that problem was taken care of when he moved out of his house and away from that bastard of a father.”  Groaning, Derek swayed into the kitchen, sniffing around the oven.  He inspected its contents, as a warm smile crossed his face.  “Good God, I don’t understand why this is such a problem with humans.  With werewolves, we love who we love and don’t give a damn about what they have under their pants, their race, or whatever skin color they have.  Mating is so much easier than this bullshit human dating, all science and pheromones, none of that bullshit “does he like me or doesn’t he” crap Scott and Allison went through.”

Derek’s dismissive tone set a fire in Stiles’ gut.  He hopped off the table, folding his arms and glaring right into Derek’s face.  “That’s nice, so glad your culture is so forward-thinking.”  His smile faded, replaced with a set of fangs that grew from his mouth.  “In any case, our society isn’t, and a lot of us are fucked up because of it.  Isaac’s worried about his image in the pack, and if it’s okay to act that way around you and the other Betas.”  He sighed at Derek’s blank stare but eventually waved it off.  “But if it’s not that big of a deal with werewolves, then you need to tell him.  Problem solved.”

“Why?”

Stiles’ fire turned into a heated blaze.  “Are you that stupid?  Because he’s uncomfortable!”  The Beta’s voice rose in volume.  “You and Isaac need to have a heart to heart, and he needs to know you support him, or at least that you or nobody else in the world of werewolves cares!  Assuming that his life has been as shit as I imagine it was from the vague amount he talks to me about it, with that look of a dog that’s been kicked one too many time, he needs to know he’s safe here!”

“Why should I bring that up with him?”  Derek’s voice matched Stiles’ in volume, if not louder.  “Isaac’s had a hard life and didn’t need me shoving it in his face constantly, reminding him of everything bad in his life.  Let him deal with his problems and insecurities so that he can grow stronger.  The last thing he needs to be spoon-fed is some bullshit reassurance.  That’s how I grew up, Stiles, and I’m plenty strong!”

“Derek, he’s sixteen and looked like he was about to break down and cry with me today.  He needs to know you’re on his side!”  Stiles spat, as his face jutted outward, hair running down both his sideburns.

Derek’s body jutted outward, taking on a much more threatening, shifted form.  “I’m his Alpha, not his therapist!”

“If you’re our leader, then you get to wear a lot of hats, bub!”

“The only thing I care about right now is keeping you and the rest of these kids in control until you resemble something like an actual Pack!  Feelings don’t have jack shit to do with that!”

“You’re the adult here, Derek!  Act like it!”

“I’m twenty, Stiles!  I’m not an adult!”

Their screams turned to immediate silence.  Stiles’ face melded back into its human self, just as Derek’s did.  The Alpha’s face paled, and he covered his mouth.  He looked just as shocked as Isaac earlier that day. 

“I-“  Derek turned away, storming out of the kitchen.  He stopped by one of the couches, gripping edge with both hands.  “I’m not-  I’m not an adult, alright?”

“You’re-  What?“  Stiles blinked in disbelief, following after Derek and glaring up at him.  “Bullshit.  You’ve got to be at least, what, thirty?  You’re like an old man!  How have you been living on your own like this if you’re-  Fuck, you haven’t even graduated college yet, have you?”

Derek refused to look Stiles in the eyes.  He paced the living room.  “Werewolves mature faster than humans.  I looked like this by my 17th birthday and becoming the Alpha’s only aged me further.  I live off the investments my parents made from the old money my family’s had for ages, and if not for that, I’d probably be homeless.”  Derek stared out the window of the condo, as dusk began to set into the darkest night.  “I was in college at NYU when Laura died.  Major in History.  I dropped out so I could get my revenge, and move back here to take care of family business.”  Dropping his head, Derek sighed.  “So, no, Stiles, I’m no adult.  All I know is from my own experiences, and I was **fine** dealing with my problems on my own.  Isaac will be too.  He needs to be stronger if he’s ever going to survive in this world.”

Stiles’ fire blossomed into a piping hot sun.  “You are **not** fine.  You’re a fucking mess, emotionally constipated, and even if you weren’t, Isaac’s not **you**!”  He stormed into the living room, spun Derek around, and grabbed the Alpha by the hem of his undershirt.  “Isaac didn’t grow up as a werewolf, so he doesn’t know jack shit about etiquette in this world, or born with your kind of confidence about being a werewolf!  He doesn’t know if it’s okay to be himself around you, and he’s sure as hell not going to be comfortable around you until he does!  You think you’re going to make a good werewolf out of him when he doesn’t trust you?  Well, he’s not!”  Dragging Derek down to his level, Stiles was inches within the Alpha’s boiling red eyes and low snarl.  “You asked me why Scott doesn’t like you, and why he almost went feral out of spite to avoid having anything to do with you!  Guess what, dipshit, it’s this kind of stunt that made Scott not want to be around you!  So fix the situation, learn to be a little more human, have a little more heart, or you’re going to lose more than just Isaac, I guarantee it!”

Derek’s red eyes faded.  The man’s snarl ceased.  He stood there in an awkward quiet, face crumpling before him, as though something Stiles said hit him where it hurt the most.

Shoving Derek away, Stiles pointed to the main hallway.  “So why don’t you go put on your big boy panties, take Isaac out for dinner, I suggest Italian, and let him know that he can feel comfortable in his skin, in his own home, or so help me god, I will break down your soundproof door, and quietly whisper the script of Star Wars all hours of the night until you do what I say!”

“You are…”  Derek scoffed, brushing past Stiles.  “Infuriating.  More infuriating than Scott’s mother.  I didn’t know that was possible.”

“You wanted me for your pack; you got me!  What you see is what you’re fucking going to get, a big loudmouth nosy asshole with the personality of a hedgehog.  Now **go**!”  Stiles ordered.

After snapping a quiet hiss at Stiles, Derek stopped in front of Isaac’s door, repeatedly banging against it. 

Quietly peering out from a crack in the door, Isaac gulped.  “Y-  Yes, Alpha?”

“You and I are going out to eat after I change.  We have matters to discuss.  Move it and meet me out in my car.  **Now.** ”  Derek waltzed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Isaac blinked quietly, turning to Stiles with questioning eyes.

Stiles shrugged, with a hidden smile on his face as the fire in his stomach subsided.  The itch in his chest also vanished, realizing that Isaac was going to be alright, and Derek wasn’t quite as much of an ass as he thought he was.  “ _What can I say, the old dog learned a new trick!”_

As Stiles walked back into the kitchen to check up on his food, he failed to notice the small black Triskele forming at the tip of his spine, just above the collar of his shirt.  The size of a dime, the mark soon became hidden as Stiles itched the spot, now covered by a t-shirt.

+++++

 

Derek slammed the door behind him.  He locked it, crumbling down the door and huddling into a ball on the floor.  His heart raced, face flooding red as a crippling pain ran up and down his entire body.  Like lashes of red-hot whips slamming into every inch of his body. 

Shame filled his stomach.  The sense of overwhelming failure. 

Standing in front of Stiles without collapsing in the living room left him tired, wavering in and out of consciousness for several minutes.

By the time the sensation wore off, Derek had found his footing.

“Stiles…  He’s my Right Hand.  Him.  Of all people…”  Derek glanced down at his wrists, where a black Triskele (the size of a dime) slowly bled out, marking his right arm in black blood, mimicking the tattoo on his back.  He balled his hand into a fist, fighting back the angry tears.

Grandfather Hale went 80 years as Alpha, never needing a Right Hand.

Talia hadn’t needed a Right Hand.

Laura certainly never needed a Right Hand.

Even Peter, in all his murderous revenge-fueled plotted, hadn’t needed a Right Hand.

“Am I…”  Derek paused, biting his lip.  Images of his sister’s smile, his mother’s warm hugs, and Grandpa Hale’s hearty laughter echoed in his memory.  “Am I that much of a failure?”


	4. One for A Few

After several days of training with Isaac, Stiles found himself with enough sound control to suppress loud noises, and a shared bedroom with Scott with all the furnishings and electronic gadgets a guy could hope to have.  Though while the idea of spending all day hanging out with Isaac (who’d quickly become his best friend in the pack, not counting Scott) was lovely, the prospect of missing much more school and flunking midterms was plenty more appalling. 

While not expecting his return to school to be all that grand, he did quickly notice the difference between the smell of a human, and the scent of his pack.  Perfumes and deodorant spray practically choked Stiles’ nostrils into submission, and the rank BO on the football and basketball teams after practice was enough to send him into a dry-heaving mess.  He survived the rest of the day by borrowing Isaac’s scarf and Scott’s jacket, drowning himself in the familiar smell of pack.

 _“We’ll work on suppressing smell next.  I swear, I didn’t think you’d be that sensitive!”_ Isaac promised, during lunchtime.

The smells Stiles encountered that day couldn’t compare to the lacrosse team’s locker rooms.  Even before their workout started, the lingering scent of sweaty crotches, armpits, and industrial strength detergent of the laundry room threatened Stiles’ gag reflex in the worst possible way.

“Dude, your nose must be off the chart.  I mean, I can smell all the gross stuff too, but like, it’s not that bad.  No worse than when I was human”  Scott muttered, stripping out of his clothes and into his compression shorts.  “Then again, Isaac was telling me that ever wolf has their strengths and weaknesses.  Isaac’s got good sound and smell skills but didn’t get much in the muscle department.  Erica’s the reverse, and she’s got some amazing eyes.”

Stiles shucked his clothes off into the locker, revealing strong abdominal lines, and a burst of muscle around his shoulders and arms.  A tight “V” formed towards his groin, with a light dusting of new hair popping up all around him.  He slipped into his pants, groaning.  “I’d like to re-roll my werewolf stats, then.  Because I don’t know what the fuck is going on with Greenburg, but there’s this disgusting smell of like crotch-mold going on, and I did not need that mental image today.”

“Ew.  TMI, dude.  I do not need to know everyone’s showering habits.”  Scott groaned, slipping on his jersey.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Dude, if I have to suffer, you get to suffer with me.  It’s the bro-code.  You signed on for this when we first met in the sandbox all those years ago.”

“Can I re-roll friendship stats?”  Scott beamed, slugging Stiles in the shoulder, playfully.

As they finished getting dressed, Coach Finstock, in all his lanky, goofy glory, stopped behind Scott and Stiles.  He pulled off his hat, running a hand through his thick black hair, inspecting Stiles’ defined back muscles.

“Bizwinkzi-  Did you-  Have you-“  Finstock paused, patting Stiles on the bare shoulders.  “Listen, kid…  You know I can’t let you play if you’re on ‘roids, and by the look of you today, you must have shot up an entire oil drum of the stuff.  Next time, be a little more subtle, like McCall.”

“Hey!”  Scott screamed, grabbing gear out of his locker.

Stiles scoffed, mentally suppressing a scream as he realized the entire team was focused on his physique.  Of course, they’d all notice that the scrawny kid with no muscle tone turned professional bodybuilder over a couple of days.  “I’m not on steroids, Coach.”  He finally coughed out, with little confidence in his tone.

“Yeah, and my paycheck covers all my bills and gives me a secure financial future.”  Finstock folded his arms, smacking away at the gum in his mouth.  “You’re getting a piss test after school, Stilinksi.  If you’re not going to pass it, you better just go no home right now, and we won’t talk about it.  Alright?”  He walked off, with the rest of the team, as they made their way out of the practice field.

Grabbing Scott by the scruff of the shoulder, Stiles felt his chest begin to burst.  “Will I pass a piss test?  Is werewolf piss…  Different than human piss?  Should I be worried?”

“I wouldn’t know, Dimwitski.”  Jackson strode up beside the two, in little more than a jockstrap, admiring himself in the mirror next to them.  “When I got the bite, nobody questioned my body.  I didn’t need the bite to make myself look good.  You, on the other hand, look like you went the Captain America route.  Pale, pathetic dork to superhero overnight.”  He grinned, laughing mockingly.

“Wow, it’s amazing how you throw your voice like that, Scott.”  Stiles’ golden glowing eyes glared right into Jackson’s gaze.  “Love the douche accent tough.  You sound like a total tool overcompensating for a tiny dick!”

Jackson adjusted himself, showing Stiles what he had to work with through the outline of his jock.  “I don’t need to compensate for shit.  The bite made me more blessed than I already was, and Lydia gets plenty, and I do mean plenty of **me**.  More than she’d ever get out of your shriveled up dick.  Not that she’d ever look at you that way, anyway.  She’s never been the type for losers that confess their love in the third grade, with a homemade valentine that looked like absolute shit.” 

A pair of fangs popped out from Stiles’ mouth, accompanied by a low growl, with a bright red blush of the most embarrassing moment of his life came flashing before his eyes.

“Oh, and by the way, sarcasm won’t get you on the first string, Stupidski.”  Strutting back to his locker, Jackson threw on his uniform, taking his time to stretch out his muscles and show off in the process.  “-and if you think I’m going to share the status as Captain with anyone else like I did with McCall, you’ve got another damn thing coming.”  Grabbing his gear, Jackson stopped inches within Stiles’ face, flashing his own pair of golden eyes.  “There’s no room for three werewolves on this team, and I’m sure as hell not leaving.

“Wow.”  Stiles slow-clapped, laughing right into Jackson’s face.  “I have to applaud you, Jackson, and your level of petty.  Supernatural cosmic powers of a werewolf and you still care about the high school popularity contest.  Absolutely amazing.”

Jackson chuckled.  “At least I’ve got a life and sleep with someone other than McCall over there.”  He strutted out of the locker room, and out onto the practice field.

“I bet Narcissus looked at himself less in the mirror than you did, you fucking prick!”  Stiles yelled as he finished throwing on his own uniform. 

“Don’t let him get to you, Stiles.  Jackson’s an asshole.”  Scott muttered, throwing an arm around his buddy’s shoulder, dragging them both out to the main field.  “By the way, I got a piss test too after my overnight transformation, and nothing showed up.  You’re fine, man.”

Stiles, still steaming, threw his arm around Scott’s shoulder as well.  “So…  You know, there’s two of us now, and we’re both freakishly strong.  I think we could take him.  You hold him down, and I'll punch him in his stupid, perfectly chiseled GQ face.”

“Come on, Stiles…  Let’s try to avoid a restraining order with someone else in the pack.”  Scott chuckled.

The full lacrosse team gathered on the practice field.  After a few laps around the track, warm-up exercises, and a round or two of shot practice, Finstock split the team in two for a scrimmage match. 

Stiles took his position on offense, next to Scott, opposite Jackson on defense. 

As the whistle blew, the ball found itself in Stiles’ net almost immediately.  Within the next few seconds, Stiles saw Jackson slamming into his chest, full-tackle, pinning Stiles to the ground, leaving skid marks on the ground as they slid.  Sympathetic groans echoed through the field, none louder than Coach Finstock himself.

Jackson lifted his head, eyes blazing gold, face in a partial shift.  He smirked as he hopped off the ground.  “Like the ground, Asswitski?  Get used to it.” 

Both sides retook their positions.  The ball was immediately passed to Jackson, who ran forward, darting between the human players with ease.  He soon met Stiles, who slammed his elbow into Jackson’s chest, slamming his fellow Beta into the ground, leaving a thick indentation in the field.

Stiles’ eyes glimmered gold, the young man’s face still very much human.  “Not as much as you.  You are the ground’s bitch, so how about you take the position?  We’re going to be at this all day long.”

“You-“  Jackson growled, flipping Stiles over, and pinning him to the ground. “You think I’m going to let you upstage me?  You think I’m going to let anyone upstage me, ever again?  You’ve got another thing coming.”  He pushed off Stiles’ chest with enough force to break a human’s ribcage.

Scott jogged to Stiles’ side, helping his friend up from the ground.  “Dude, you okay?  Can I-“

Stiles yanked his stick from the ground, holding a hand up to silence Scott.  “He’s.  Mine.”

Lacrosse practice transformed into an all-out war between Jackson and Stiles.  The rest of the team, Scott included, took a backseat as Jackson and Stiles switched between offense and defense.  Each attempt at scoring left both boys a crumpled mess on the ground.  Shoulder blades met padding, cracking their gear, shattering plastic remains across the field.  At several points, they struck each other with enough force to snap the gridiron of their helmets.  Eventually, all pretense of practice threw itself out the window, with Coach Finstock only intervening as Jackson pulled back his arm, reading a punch at Stiles' exposed head.

“Boys!”  Finstock stepped in between them, keeping them at arm’s length.  “I appreciate the enthusiasm boys, I really do, but some of the other guys need to practice, too!  How about the two of you go take a fiver, and cool down on the testosterone?”

Stiles and Jackson glared angrily at each other.  Through his mask, Stiles could tell Jackson was in full shift, barely fitting inside his helmet.  Jackson shoved away at Finstock, storming off to the bench. 

Following suit, Stiles plopped down on the benches on the opposite end of the field.

Scott jogged over, bending down to Stiles’ level and peering inside his friend’s helmet.  “You in control?  You guys were, uh- Really going at it, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  Stiles peeled off his helmet, sucking in air as fatigue overtook him.  He hadn’t been holding back against Jackson, which was for certain.  “Don’t think I lost it, but…  Something inside me got riled up with him talking to me like that.  Like…  Like I absolutely **had** to put him in his place.  You know?”  He glanced up, catching Scott’s peculiar expression.  “What?  That’s never happened to you before?”

Scott shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Not really, but I'm new to pack living.  Could it be a dominance thing?  You feel that way about anyone else in the pack?”

Stiles shook his head.  Except Derek being an ass to Isaac a few nights earlier, he’d never felt any kind of animosity to the rest of the pack.  “Not really.  I spent three days with Isaac, and all I felt around him was the urge to force feed him love in the form of food and affection.  I don’t know Erica and Boyd well enough to have any kind of feeling, and you and I are practically brothers.  No offense dude, but I put up with you snoring in my ear all night long, and if that doesn’t trigger murderous intent, I don’t know what would.”

Scott rolled his eyes, slugging at Stiles’ arm.  “Better ask Derek, then.  We don’t need you flipping out in the middle of a game, trying to eat Jackson’s face.  We can text him when we get back to the house, I think he’s meeting with Deaton today.”

A sly grin crossed Stiles’ face, accompanied by a warm feeling in his gut.  “You, of all people, are suggesting we talk to Derek?  Warming up to our Alpha, are we?”

“No!  Hell no, the guy’s an asshole!”  Scott protested, with an over-exaggerated volume.  He looked away from Stiles.  “I don’t want you suffering, and Derek knows the most about this crap.  That’s all.  I mean, you’ve anchored me where I’m not flipping out all the time, I should be able to anchor you too, you know?  Fair’s fair.”

“Thanks, bro.”  Stiles reached around Scott, bringing him into a side-hug. 

Practice went back to normal, with Stiles and Jackson watching from the sidelines.  By the time it ended, and the groups were piling into the locker room for showers, Coach Finstock grabbed Stiles by the scruff of his neck, yanking him backward.  “Biwinszki…  You promise me you’re not on the take?  Because you’re definitely getting a double piss test now, but if you can play like this all the time, and not go into roid rage with Whittemore, I could sure use another body like yours on the first string.”

Stiles glared through Finstock.  “I’m not on steroids, Coach.”

“Really?”  Finstock shrugged, patting Stiles on the shoulders.  “Alright then, triple piss test.  You pass, and you’re on the first string.  Learn to take out your anger somewhere else though.  Take up yoga or some kind of zen bullshit.  I think there’s special tea for that kind of stuff.”

“Thanks?”  Stiles muttered as Finstock made his way back to his office.

Scott grinned.  “Dude, congrats!”

“Yeah, I’m thrilled that it took becoming a supernatural predator for me to make the first string team.  I feel so proud of myself and my naturally born talent,” Stiles scoffed, making his way off to the locker rooms with Scott, stopping as a wet scent hit his nose.  A smell like moist, muddy sand.  He spun around, following the direction of the scent, which left his gut-churning, and sharp pain ebbing in his chest.

Stiles spotted Jackson as the source of the pungent scent, sitting on the bench in front of a tall man dressed to the nines in a full suit and tie.  Jackson wouldn’t look the man in the eyes, speaking with folded arms.

“Who’s that?”  Scott asked.

“No idea…  Give me a minute,”  Stiles shut his eyes, zeroing in on Jackson’s sandy scent.  His ears flickered and shifted into two pointed masses of flesh, struggling to drown out all of the sounds around the school.  Using Isaac’s teachings, he drowned out the loud roars coming from the locker room showers, barely able pick up the conversation across the field.

 

_“…yes, I know you’re grades are fantastic, Jackson.  I’ve never been more proud of you and all that you’re accomplishing, but that’s not what I’m asking.  I’m asking if **you** , my **son** , are alright.  Your mother and I are worried sick about you.  The gym owner called me again this week and let me know you were there until 4 in the morning last night.”_

_Jackson smirked.  “Did you see me out there today?  I’m in the best shape of my life, and our team will be going to the state playoffs with-“_

_“You’re not listening!”  Mr. Whittemore grabbed both of Jackson’s shoulders, shaking him.  “I know you’re one of the smartest and most athletic students in this school, and I know about every accomplishment you’ve made this year.  What I care about is **you** , Jackson.  Ever since you became involved with these werewolves, I-  I don’t see you anymore.  You practically live at the gym or with that Hale boy, and when you’re not doing that, you’re studying the full course of AP classes you’ve been taking, or out with that Lydia girl.”  The man shook, with a pitiable glance crossing his face.  “I’ve told you, Jackson, time and again, you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.  You’re my son, and your mother and I love you, no matter what!  Don’t work yourself to the bone and miss out on the best years of your life!  Now is the time to enjoy being a kid, without any worries.”_

_Jackson paused, gently brushing his father’s arms away.  “…I need to get to my study session with Lydia.  I have an AP Chem test tomorrow.  Tell mom I said hi, alright?  I’ll come visit when I can.”  He walked away from his father, grabbing his gear and jogging off to the locker rooms._

_“Jackson!  Wait!”  The man yelled, reaching out into thin air before swearing under his breath._

“What’d he say?  Dude, come on, I still haven’t had training with Isaac, you’ve been hogging him all week!”

“Something I probably shouldn’t have eavesdropped on.”  Stiles balled his hand into a fist, biting his bottom lip.  How the hell could Jackson treat his father like that?  Someone who was that damn concerned about him?  An angry heat bubbled in Stiles’ gut.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

After a quick shower and changing into his street clothes, Stiles made their way out to the parking lot, waiting for Scott to finish getting cleaned up.  As he waited, a familiar man in a suit approached him by the school entrance.

“Excuse me-“  Mr. Whittemore cleared his throat, checking all around him before speaking.  “Stiles, isn’t it?  The Sheriff’s boy? You’re one of **them** , aren’t you?  I’d heard from Mrs. McCall that you’d joined Derek and his…  Pack.  She said you’d be the one I should speak with.”

“Yeah, I have.  You’re uh, Jackson’s dad, right?”  Stiles asked, not really needing to confirm.  Everyone knew Mr. Whittemore, the head prosecutor for their county, and one of the wealthiest men in all of Beacon Hills.  His fine clothes, slicked back hair, and warm blue eyes made him the DILF wet dream of many men and women in Beacon Hills.

“I am.”  Mr. Whittemore sighed, clearly tongue-tied   “I’m sorry to bother you like this, but I had a favor to ask if you don’t mind.”

“Okay?”  Stiles rose an eyebrow, eyeing the man cautiously. 

Mr. Whittemore glanced behind him, towards the dark coloring of the sky.  “I’m worried about my son overworking himself.  Before the bite, he already drove himself to exhaustion, but nowadays, he’s-  He’s twice as bad.  Even with all the extra stamina you wolves have, he can only do so much in a day, and Jackson is bound to burn out any minute.  I can’t imagine he has any quality of life right now, and that’s a dangerous mental position to be in.”  Fidgeting in place, Mr. Whittemore turned, looking Stiles directly in the eyes?  “Would you please keep an eye on my son and let me know if he’s in over his head, or in some kind of danger?  Jackson would never let me know any of that on his own.  We’ve had a strained relationship for a while now.”

Stiles had no idea how to the tell the truth from a lie, he hadn’t gotten that far in training with Isaac.  Though, despite that, there was no denying the man’s sincerity, at least in Stiles’ mind.  Years of idle conversation with Noah Stilinksi, over mundane topics neither father or son cared about, taught Stiles plenty about a parent’s sincerity.  Mr. Whittemore was apparently concerned, out of love for his son. 

“Sure, I can help…  But why me?  You should be talking to Derek about stuff like this.  He’s our Alpha, you know.”  Stiles replied as the heat in his gut churned into a frigid mass.

Mr. Whittemore chuckled.  “I’m a lawyer, Stiles.  Over the years, I’ve learned a thing or two about people, just from looking at them in the eye.”  He paced around the entrance, eyes falling flat to the ground.  “Derek’s a responsible young man, but his mind is focused on other things, and my son isn’t his highest priority, that much is obvious.  You, on the other hand, have kind eyes.  From the moment I spotted you today, I knew you’re the only one in that group I feel as though I could trust to tell me the truth or care enough to actually follow through with this.”  Chuckling, Mr. Whittemore turned, offering Stiles a kind smile.  “That, and Mrs. McCall also informed me you’re a very bright young man, who sacrificed his humanity on behalf of her son.  You show quite a bit of character for someone so young.  Your father must be very proud of you.”

“Oh.”  Stiles ducked his head, a deep blush crossing his cheeks.  “Well, I mean…  I’ll help if I can.  Jackson and I aren’t exactly friends, but I can let you know if he needs anything.”

“Thank you.”  Mr. Whittemore bowed his head, grabbing Stiles’ hands and shaking them firmly.  “I know my son can be difficult.  His mother and I spoiled him his entire life, but only because he’s everything to us.  I wasn’t able to have children, you see, and my wife and I always wanted a big family, and a child to call our own.  That’s why Jackson was so precious to us, you see.  Nowadays I worry…  I’ve done something to make him not love us anymore, and that breaks our hearts.”  A wide gaze crossed Mr. Whittemore’s face.  He straightened his back, glancing away as he muttered profanity under his breath.  “I- apologize.  I didn’t mean to vomit all my problems on you, young man.”

Stiles chuckled.  “People seem to be doing that a lot lately,” he mumbled, under his breath.”

  +++++

 

Dr. Alan Deaton, to the inhabitants of Beacon Hills, was little more than a local vet with poor personal skills, terrible bedside manner,  a heavy-set figure, and balding head.  Yet, Derek could feel the weight of the man’s power the moment he set foot in the back room of the animal clinic.  As an Emissary of the Beacon Hills region, the man had enough magical talent to destroy everything in a fifteen-mile radius but bound by his ethics to never use it for personal gain.  Neutral in all things, big and small.

Derek hopped up on the nearest counter, leaning against the brick wall.

Deaton looked up from his office desk, shutting the laptop as he caught Derek’s gaze.  “You’re ten minutes late for our meeting, Alpha Hale.  Have you completed the documents I asked you for?”

Nodding, Derek pulled a manila envelope from his jacket, plopping it on the table next to him.  “There.  I signed off on all the national treaties, included our pack guidelines, territorial stakes, and all the other stupid red tape you threw at me.”

“Excellent.”  Deaton stood from his desk, striding over and retrieving the envelope.  He opened it up, skimming over the thick stack of papers in mere moments, as the man’s eyes glowed a soft silver, before fading away.  “Looks to be in order, and I’m impressed with your written skill, Alpha Hale, very diplomatic.  Though I would advise against you forbidding entry into your territory, that tends to raise red flags from local groups, but I understand, given your youthful pack members.  In the next few years, however, you’ll need to begin hosting dinners for the other Alphas in the area, and become more active in the social scene.  If you don’t, you’ll end up with few allies and rampant gossip about what you’re hiding.”

“Not until the kids are done with high school.”  Derek fiddled with his fingertips.  “-and not until I’ve got more members.  I have my eyes on a few more candidates, once Stiles and Scott are done with basic training.”

“I’m sure we can stave off requests for a few years,”  Deaton smiled, filing Derek’s papers into a locked filing cabinet.  “I’ll get this sent off to my contact with the National Agency.  Any other questions, Alpha Hale?”

Derek sighed, hopping off the counter.  He paced the room, eyes darting back and forth.  “I need advice.  Emissary advice.”

“What kind?”  Deaton folded his arms, glaring at Derek.  “The kind that’s obvious advice that you’ll never follow, or the kind of advice where I patronize you like a child, telling you exactly what you want to hear?”

Derek rolled his eyes.  Deaton’s distaste of his leadership stylings had been made entirely apparent, him objecting to just about every decision Derek made since killing Peter.  He wouldn’t have used the man at all if there were any other Emissaries in the area, but Derke’s options were few and far in between.  “The kind revolving around this,” he said, rolling up his sleeve and exposing the mark of his Right Hand.

“Oh, my.”  Deaton rushed to Derek’s side, taking the Alpha’s hand and inspecting the Triskele mark in quiet awe.  “I haven’t seen one of these in decades.  A Right Hand…  Which one of your members bears the twin mark?  Who’s your co-leader?”

Derek growled, taking his hand back from Deaton.  “Stiles.”

Nodding, Deaton hummed quietly to himself, mind racing as he inspected Derek’s mark from afar.  “You could do a lot worse as far as Right Hands go.  That boy ran with wolves while human, and that takes plenty of guts.  Not to mention he seems to be brighter than most, seeing that he’s kept Scott in line for so long.  Something you were quite clearly unable to accomplish.”

“How do I get rid of it?”  Derek’s eyes flashed red.  He didn’t need a play by play of his many failings as Alpha from Deaton, of all people.

“You don’t.  The mark is a permanent feature.”  Deaton sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  He paced to a bookshelf in the back, retrieving an old, dusty tome.  “A Right Hand’s place in the pack is no different than the Alpha’s place.  The position is chosen, based on the needs of the pack that you weren’t filling as Alpha, but that your wolf knew was missing.  This means that Stiles is capable of something that none of your previous bites had.  Interesting…”  Deaton flipped through the tome at his desk, eyes glowing silver once again as he read each page in a matter of seconds.  “Though I would be cautious.  My notes read that on an instinctive level, the young man’s wolf knows he’s the highest-ranking member of the pack, even if Stiles himself is unaware.  Should anyone in your ranks try to upend the hierarchy, he could very well try to put that other wolf in their place.  You, the Pack, and Stiles need to have a very long conversation about what it means to be an Alpha’s Right Hand.”

Derek slammed his fist into the brick wall, leaving a crater in his wake.  He growled, with red dust covering the area all around him.  “Then I’m stuck with him?”

Slamming the tome shut, Deaton glared at Derek, huffing.  “Whether you like it or not, Stiles now holds a unique place in your pack’s structure.  He’s your second-in-command, with the power to stop you from making poor decisions.  Something your wolf **wants**.”  He tapped the tome in front of him.  “In fact, if you’re not careful, he can succeed you as Alpha entirely.  There’s a recorded case in late summer, 1964, Alpha O’Henry found his powers gone one morning, with his Left Hand, the man’s wife no less, standing as the new High Alpha of Ireland.  Apparently, the Alpha had a problem with gambling that left his pack in dire debts, going as far as to starve the young pups.  The Left Hand was determined to be the best leader for the pack, and took over.”

Fear crept into Derek’s chest.  Visions of his grandfather’s face raced through him, followed quickly by his sister and mother.  He removed his bleeding fist from the crater in the wall, hand trembling.  “Then what am I supposed to do to avoid that?  This Power has been in **my** family for generations, I’m not about to give it up to him.”  Derek growled, watching as steam billowed from his hand-wounds, sealing shut in a matter of moments.  “That boy…  He’s already connected with Isaac in ways I could never get that kid to open up to me about.” 

 _“I had no idea Isaac was scared of me.  That poor was going to stay in the closet, scared he’d embarrass me.  Stiles knew it.  Stiles stood up to me, and made sure Isaac wasn’t going to suffer.”_ Derek slammed his eyes shut, ashamed of himself.  Laura would have never let someone in her pack suffer.  She sure as hell made sure Derek knew he was loved, each and every day after the fire.  

“Simple.  Listen to Stiles.  Talk with Stiles.  Be honest with Stiles.”  Deaton strode across the room, shoving the tome into Derek’s arms.  “A Right Hand, despite your resentful nature and immature thinking, is not something to be embarrassed about.  In fact, Fenrir, the father of all werewolves, had both a Right and Left Hand that guided him, Skoll and Hati respectively.  Skoll led Fenrir’s moral compass to protect his pack’s heart, while Hati led his vengeful claws to protect his pack’s body.”  He thumped Derek’s chest, pressing a finger into Derek’s heart.  “Stiles’ role is no different from Skoll’s.  He will help you to protect the pack’s heart, their feelings, and their fears, yours included.  The young man’s senses will develop differently, and I imagine his scent will be a calming effect on all that come near him, allowing them to open up more honestly around him.  Like a mother’s love, the book says.”  He sighed, shaking his head.  “Alpha Hale, it’s clear you’re uncomfortable with this topic, but you should see this as a blessing.”

“-and yet, mother never had a Right Hand.  Or Laura.  Or even Peter,” Derek spat, gripping the book in his hand tightly, digging his claws into the spine of the book.

“None of them ever had a Stiles.”  Deaton waved Derek off, returning to his desk, and opening his laptop up once more.  “For that matter, most of them led their packs during times of peace.  You are leading the new Hale Pack during a time of uncertainty, rebuilding with people you don’t know all that well, all former humans for that matter, with a group of Hunters down the street that were responsible for your family’s death.  Don’t compare yourself to past Alphas, Derek.  You’ll only end up with self-imposed ideals of what you need to be doing, instead of what you should actually be doing.  Your situation is so unlike that of any other Alpha I’ve ever known that you need to learn your own leadership style.  One that Stiles, apparently, can assist you with, if the twin marks on your bodies are any bearing.” 

Derek opened his mouth to argue, silenced by a loud buzzing in his pocket.  He swore, yanking the phone out of his pocket, and noticing a new message on his phone.  More texts arrived in quick succession, buzzing in his hands repeatedly.

 

_Stiles:  Dude, where are you?  Need to talk to you about Jax. >:|_

_Stiles:  Mr. Whittemore is worried about the guy, and you need to get your Alpha butt in gear and get to the bottom of this!  I have no idea why Jaxis such an asshole, but you’re his Alpha, and you need to be involved in this!_

_Stiles:  Stake-out?  Follow the prick everywhere?  Need to do this in private.  I doubt Jax is going to open up to any of us about it.  :(_

_Stiles:  That, and I might have pissed Jax off so much that he went to stay the night at his friend Danny’s place.  :/_

_Stiles:  We need to talk about that, too.  Jax and I might have gotten into it during practice a bit.  Just a tiny bit.  Didn’t lose control, but I did nearly break his ribs.  Twice._

_Stiles:  Is that a dominance thing?  Or just a side effect of me wanting to run the guy over with a carbine harvester for the last ten years of school?_

_Stiles:  By the way, my nose picks up EVERYTHING, and it SUCKS ASS.  What the fuck, Hale?  I was not warned about being able to smell swamp ass!!!_

_Stiles:  Also, I’m making Mexican for dinner.  Don’t eat on the way home, I’ve seen all those fast food wrappers in the kitchen trash can.  What the hell did I say about eating that crap?_

_Stiles:  Though if you ARE going, get me a mint milkshake.  :)_

_Stiles:  Scott wants one too._

_Stiles:  Erica too._

_Stiles:  Boyd says you owe him fifty dollars for last night’s chess game.  Dude, seriously?  Do you not know when to stop?  Do you have a problem we need to talk about? >_<_

_Stiles:  Boyd wants a milkshake too, BTW._

_Stiles:  …and Isaac  -_-_

_Stiles:  On second thought, might be cheaper to go to the grocery store and get ice cream.  I can make it easier._

_Stiles:  Apparently, I’ve been threatened with death if you don’t bring us mint milkshakes.  Save me Derek Hale, you’re my only hope!  :O_

Derek didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, shutting the phone without replying to any of the messages.

_“This…  Is my Right Hand..  This dumpster fire...  Is my Right Hand.”_

Derek chose to laugh.


	5. One For Kindred

Aside from scouting new talent for the Hale Pack, as an Alpha, Derek’s days were mostly spent around management, in front of a computer screen at the foot of his bed.  Ensuring the Hale’s investments were doing well.  Making bill payments.  Squirreling away funds to make sure his pack members could get a higher education if they wanted it.  Taking care of whatever red-tape nonsense Deaton threw his way.  Studying the regional treaties and land rights.  Reading Deaton’s library of knowledge, trying to scrounge up what education he could have about an Alpha’s powers.

A mountain of knowledge stuffed into his head that left him strung out by the end of the day, and ready for Boyd to return from school, for their string of chess games, with money bet on each game’s outcome.  He appreciated the lack of small talk Boyd offered and the focus each of them had for something that didn’t involve the Pack.  The quiet of the dining room before the rest of the pack returned home, was the few moments of peace he afforded himself each day.

Although, the eight hours he’d poured over Deaton’s tome, researching Right and Left Hands of an Alpha, and the mental image of Stiles being his equal?  Chess couldn’t entirely cut through the fog of his mind.

Boyd slid a rook across the chessboard, glancing Derek’s way.  He sighed, gesturing to the board. “You’re stressed.  What’s wrong?”

Derek scoffed, moving one of his pieces.  “What makes you say that?”

“You just moved your pawn ten spaces across the board,” Boyd said, pointing to the piece Derek just moved.  “Before that, you moved your rook in a knight’s pattern.  Not to mention you keep taking my pieces.  Without capturing them.”

Blinking, Derek tried to recall any of the moves he’d just made.  Yet, all he could think about was the only thing on his mind at the moment-  Stiles, as his right hand.  He sighed.  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“More fun for me.  Had to think outside the box to win.”  Boyd grinned, sliding his queen into a position.  “Checkmate.”

“Goddammit.”  Derek threw his hands up, at his 456th consecutive loss.  Even while absentmindedly cheating, he couldn’t beat the fucker.  Derek reached into his pocket for his wallet.

Boyd put up a hand, shaking his head.  “Put it away, man.  I only want your money when I win for real.  So come on, what’s the problem?”

“It’s nothing.”  Derek sighed, sliding down the dining room chair.  He glanced out the window overlooking their balcony, admiring the sight of the city, and the smooth instrumental music playing on his phone in the corner.  “It’d take too long to explain.”

“I have time.  The others won’t be back for half an hour.”  Boyd picked up the pieces from the board, quickly filtering between the white and black pieces in his fingertips.  “Talk to me while we play another game.”

Derek grumbled under his breath, sitting up straight in his chair.  While Boyd set the pieces up across the board, Derek took a deep breath.  Of everyone in his pack, Boyd was the least likely to gossip.  The man only opened his mouth when necessary, the exact opposite of Stiles. 

Eventually finding the courage, Derek sighed.  “Boyd, do you think I’m a good Alpha?  Am I running this pack the way I should?  Be honest.”

Boyd shrugged, as he placed the last few pieces in place.  As starting player, Boyd pushed a pawn forward, several spaces in Derek’s direction.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never had an Alpha before.  You could be awful.  You could be good.  I don’t have a frame of reference.  Neutral opinion.”

 _“Blunt as always…”_ Derek thought, appreciating the honesty, and picking up the truth in Boyd’s words by the beating of his Beta’s heart.  “Thanks,” Derek muttered, sarcastically.  He mirrored Boyd’s opening move on the board.

“I like you as a person, though.”  Boyd studied the board, before moving another pawn forward.  “I’m not alone anymore.  I have brothers and sisters in the pack.  I have people to talk to.  You gave me that, Derek.  That’s all I care about.  I don’t give a damn about how good of an Alpha you are. ”

Derek allowed himself a short smile as the chess match continued in earnest.

At least, in some small way, he hadn’t failed Boyd, something he’d finally done right in his life.  He felt a kinship with Boyd like he’d never felt with anyone else in the pack.  Boyd was a man of few words, but had the mental intellect of a chess champion, and was undoubtedly in the top ten students attending Beacon High.  Though Derek felt little connection to the man’s intelligence and didn’t really understand Boyd’s obsession with those Japanese cartoons and comic books.

No, Boyd hated himself. 

Since he was a child, Boyd felt unloved, unpopular, living like a shadow in society, invisible to everyone all around him.   Derek understood that bitter cold of self-loathing, to the point of desiring constant isolation from the world itself. 

After the fire, that had been Derek’s life.  Had Laura not pulled him out, Derek wasn’t entirely sure if he’d still be around.

Either way, it’d been at a park where Derek met Boyd all those months ago, playing chess by himself and muttering his unhappiness in life to the local birds.  Derek clicked immediately with Boyd, and the promise of pack life, complete with brothers and sisters to keep him company, had been all the motivation Boyd needed to become Derek’s Beta.

Derek slid a knight forward on the board.  “Thanks.  That’s reassuring, at least.”

“What brought this on?”  Boyd pondered his next move, quietly scratching his chin.  “Did Deaton lecture you again?  I know he’s an Emissary, but I don’t like him.  Creepy dude.”

Peering down at his right wrist, Derek pulled back the big watch that covered the mark of his Right Hand.  He felt his gullet drop.  The dime-sized Triskele had grown to that of a nickel, with long black strands growing and swirling in design outwards, shaped like vines with tender buds popping at their branching paths.  Growth, and a clear sign that Stiles’ influence in the pack was growing.

“No.”  Derek slid the watch back over the mark.  “Deaton’s infuriating, but he’s no leader.  If I wanted the advice of a walking fortune cookie, I’d go order Lo Mein at the Hibachi House.”

A sly grin slid over Boyd’s face as he took his queen, hovering over the king.  “Ah.  Then it’s about Stiles, then?  Knew it.”  He placed the queen with a fervent thump, taking Derek’s knight.

Derek’s mouth fell open, caught off guard, and struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“Thought so.”  Boyd folded his arms, leaning backward as he analyzed the board before him in great detail.

“How-“  Derek glanced around, sniffing the air for some kind of sign of the pack.  His stomach burned in embarrassment.  Had he been that transparent?  Did the others notice his worry about the future of the pack?  Had any of them seen his wrist?  “-How'd you know?”

“You stare at him a lot.  Especially at dinner.”  Boyd chuckled to himself.  “You could do a lot worse with Stiles as a boyfriend.  Or mate.  Whatever you call it.  Stiles takes this wolf stuff seriously.  You’d make a cute couple.”

As Boyd’s words sunk in, Derek shot up from the table, slamming both fists down.  “What?!  Are you insane?!  I am not looking at Stiles as a mate!  That is the furthest thing from my mind!  What in the hell made you think I wanted that scrawny, comic-book obsessed loudmouth?!”

“Your turn.”  Boyd gestured to the chess game, tapping his foot impatiently, ignoring Derek’s outrage.  “As for you and Stiles…  I thought it was pretty obvious.  You let Stiles get away with murder.  Back when it was just me, you, and Erica, you’d bite our heads off all the time.  Stiles yells at you all the time, and basically runs the house now.”  He smirked, tapping the table.  “You brought us those mint milkshakes, Derek, when Stiles asked you to.  If anyone else had texted you, you’d ignore it.”    

Growling, Derek slumped back into his chair, moving a random piece on the board.  “Ridiculous.  I do one favor for you people, and you take it out of context.”

Boyd smiled, capturing Derek’s poorly defended knight.  “Alright, whatever you say.  If that’s not it, then what problem do you have with Stiles?  Nice guy.  Talks too much.  Good heart, though.”

“He does.”  Derek dropped his head, as dark thoughts swirled around in his mind.  He could never be like Stiles, speaking every little thing that came to his mind.  Ripping open his chest for the world, and bearing the burdens of others as Stiles did for Scott and Isaac.  Hell, the kid was out stalking the Whittemore brat, his mortal enemy of ten years, as a favor of charity to Mr. Whittemore.  That kind of camaraderie was rare, even in werewolves.  “I guess that’s what worries me.  How’s an Alpha supposed to lead a pack, when there’s someone like Stiles…  They’d follow the one with the heart, instead of me.” 

“You’ve got a good heart, too,”  Boyd muttered.

“Huh?” 

Boyd stood up from the dining room table, striding over to the nearest wall.  He glanced up, eyes focused on a recent picture of their group, a selfie, no less.  The only photo in the entire house, courtesy of Stiles.  “You don’t show it off in words.  You show it in actions.”  He reached up, taking the picture off the wall, and smiling.  “Like threatening Isaac’s dad from coming near him again.  Or giving Erica that new wardrobe after she took the bite to feel better about herself.  Buying me a new chess set, and getting your ass whipped constantly.  Stuff like that.”  Boyd held the picture up to Derek, pointing to Derek’s blaze’ pose in the very back of the group.  Aside from him, everyone else in the picture smiled.  “You have a good heart, though.  A lot like Stiles.  Different, but good.  We wouldn’t smile if you were a tyrant.”  Boyd patted Derek on the pack, before throwing an arm around Derek’s side, into a tight hug.  “Quit beating yourself up, Alpha, and learn to like yourself more.  Like you taught me to do.”

Reciprocating Boyd’s embrace, Derek’s chest fluttered.  A warmth he’d never experienced before, spreading out from his heart and to every part of his body, unknown to all but Alphas.  Yet, a sensation he’d read plenty about since becoming an Alpha. 

An Alpha’s bond. 

The link between himself and the members of his pack, a real, physical manifestation of power that Alphas gain from the trust and respect of their Betas.  A bond that constituted an Alpha’s power, Derek feared he’d never find a bond with his pack mates and would be unable to defend them in their time of need.  Boyd was his first. 

“Alright, enough mushy crap.  Chill out about Stiles, and just be yourself.  Try and play nice with the guy, and don’t be a dick all the time.”  Boyd shoved Derek back into his seat, taking his place at the opposite end of the table.  “Make your move.  I have a winning streak I need to keep and need another 20 bucks to add to my collection.”

Clutching his chest, Derek felt a second heart beating in rhythm with his own.  He felt the eagerness and honesty of Boyd’s feelings with each and every thump in his chest.  He smiled, picking up his bishop.  “I’m going to beat you one of these days, Boyd.”  He set the bishop down.

Boyd grinned, quietly keeping the fact he had checkmate in four turns a secret.

 

+++++

 

Stiles took his usual place in the kitchen after school, accepting his role as pack chef for now and all eternity.  Somehow, Isaac hadn’t exaggerated the lack of culinary skill in their ranks.  Poor Scott nearly set the house on fire trying to help bake the garlic break, Erica let the noodles overcook into mush, and Isaac- Well, no need in dwelling on attempted murder by food poisoning.

Rummaging through an old cookbook of his mothers, Stiles pondered what to make, tying an apron around his tank-top and shorts.  Italian was always good, large portions for the pack, easy to make, and Isaac’s clear favorite.  Mexican was a favorite of Scott’s, especially when Stiles pulled out Mama McCall’s recipes, but the scents following a meat and bean dinner tended to leave everyone miserable later.  Erica loved steak and potatoes, but making enough for all of them managed to drain their weekly food budget in a single day.  Jackson always complained about anything Stiles cooked (while leaving an empty plate each day), Boyd never said two words, and Derek just didn’t seem to care about the food at all.

“Hmm…  Not in the mood for soup, skip those pages…  Like hell am I cooking lamb for the uncultured swine, skip those…”  Stiles hummed along with the soft music in the background.  Classical music that played on someone’s phone almost every day when they got in from practice.  While not a fan of the genre, Stiles felt calm after a long day of school and lacrosse practice, humming along to the wordless melodies.  Whoever it was, at least had good taste in stress relief tunes.

Soft footsteps padded behind him, with the sharp scent of herbs accompanying it.

Stiles smiled, always grinning at the Big Bad’s granny scent.  The spicy scent was subtle but never failed to give Stiles a reassuring sense of safety. Apparently, some kind of Alpha Mojo bullshit, because Stiles knew he was always on Derek’s crap list, and the grumpy asshole always liked to give him the business.

“Cooking, again?”  Derek leaned up against the fridge, eyes focused on the ground beneath him.

Stiles turned, clutching his chest in a feigned heart attack at the Alpha’s presence.  “Hey!  The Alpha man makes an appearance!  Don’t you usually hide in your room when we get home?  Complain about us being too loud, not hitting the gym to train, wasting our lives on our phones, or something about getting off your front lawn, yadda-yadda?”

“Very funny-“ Derek rolled his eyes.  While folding his arms, Derek glanced around the kitchen, with a sigh.  “You don’t have to cook for us every night.  I can afford to take us out for dinner and give you a break.  Or we can get takeout, or do one of those online food things they never shut up about on the internet.”

Immediately, Stiles rushed to Derek’s side, planting his hand on the Alpha’s forehead.  “Whoa, now.  You’re showing compassionate tendencies towards me, actually know what Blue Apron is, and brought us all milkshakes the other day.  Are you feeling okay?  Is this the werewolf flu?  Are you dying?  Should I start preparing a funeral?  You’d look good in a classic black suit, you know.  By the way, I get the house, calling dibs right now.”

Derek shoved Stiles off him, growling.  “Excuse me for trying to give you a break!  Next time, I’ll leave you to the mercy of the hungry wolves that live in this house!  Let them rip you to shreds over the last place of pie!  See if I care!”  He folded his arms again, huffing through his nose.  A low red color dotted his face.

Stiles laughed, surprised at the playful bite in Derek’s tone.  There’d even been a glimmer of a wolf-related joke, of all things.  “Easy there big guy, I didn’t mean it like that.  I appreciate the offer, and will definitely let you take me out to every steakhouse in town, but this is all a ploy to nab Jackson.  It’s the only time the guy’s mouth isn’t running about himself, or pissing all over Scott and me.  I’ll lure him into a trap, get him nice, full, with a false sense of security and then spring the big questions on him!  He won’t know what hit him, and he’ll be too full to move!”  Stiles gasped, flipping through his cookbook.  “Turkey!  Of course!  He’ll be comatose by dessert!”

“Ah.”  Derek nodded, peering at the cookbook on the kitchen counter.  He moved beside Stiles, peering over the Beta’s shoulder, just beside his neck.  “Well, I’m sure whatever you make will be good.  I hate to say it, but my offers of takeout don’t’ usually go well received anymore.  Everyone appreciates you giving us home-cooked meals, myself included.”  A small smile crossed the Alpha’s face.  “My father was our Pack’s cook, before the fire.  I haven’t had good food like what you make in a very long time.  Reminds me of home.  Actually, it reminds me of Mom and Dad, and my baby brothers fighting over dessert and Cora pigging out over the -”  Derek paused, surprised at himself.  He wiped at his nose, stepping away from Stiles, fanning the air around him.  “Rain.  That smell…  Guess Deaton was right, that smell does work for everyone in the pack,” Derek mumbled, too quiet for Stiles to hear him.

Not that Stiles could have heard him anyway.  Mouth agape, Stiles stared blankly at Derek’s face in a state of shock.  The man **never** spoke about his life before the fire, especially not to Stiles.  Aside from Laura and Peter, Stiles didn’t know of anyone from Derek’s past, or what the Hale family had been like.  He had little brothers?  In the past tense?  How old had they been?  Who was this “Cora”?  Had she been a sister, too?  A cousin, maybe?

Stiles balled his hand into a fist, recalling Kate Argent’s face, and that wicked laughter she’d had while torturing Derek back during Peter’s fiasco.  Rage bubbled in his stomach, only to be calmed by the vision of her getting exactly what she deserved-  An unmarked grave out in Beacon Forest, left out for the wildlife to feast on.

From the look on Derek’s face, the dark expanse under his eyes, the lifeless coloring of his face, the Alpha must have been thinking about it too. 

Losing his mother had been hard enough for Stiles and Noah.  Noah lost all control, and Stiles wasn’t all that great in the head, either.  That was over a single person in his life.  He couldn’t imagine losing everything, or of the hurt, Derek must feel just thinking about all those lives.

“Did he-“  Stiles’ mouth opened on his own, taken aback by the words that left him.  He tried to take them back, unable to stop the torrent of emotion from exploding outward.  “-your dad, I mean..  Did he have a dish you really liked?  If you want, I could make it?  I mean, I’m pretty good at cooking, so unless it involves a blowtorch or something we don’t have a tool for, it’d be no problem.  I mean, I don’t know what to cook tonight anyway.  Turkey is related to my plotting over Jackson, but it’s a real pain in the ass to get just right, unless that’s what you want, in which case, I could totally do it, you know?”  Slapping a hand over his mouth, Stiles stopped himself from rambling.  He’d tried to be sensitive, but unfortunately, “smooth” was not something Stiles had much skill with.

A tense pause grew between Stiles and Derek, leaving Stiles sick to his stomach.  He’d stepped too far.  Derek opened up to him, but Stiles had to open his damn mouth and ruin the tender moment.

_“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”_

Derek reached out, planning his hand on Stiles’ cookbook, gripping it tightly.  He pressed it into Stiles’ arms.  “Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.  He put some kind of herb and onions in the potatoes, I don’t know what, but it was green, and with lots of butter and milk.  Dad had rolls, too, soft bread, like a dinner roll.  Fluffy.”  The Alpha gulped, rubbing the back of his neck.  He ducked his head, shaking off the stupor.  “Dad…  He made that for my birthday every year, up until I was 17.  I haven’t had it since the fire.  Never thought the meal would ever taste right again.  Nobody made it the way he did, but you-”  The Alpha looked away from Stiles, rubbing his right wrist.  He gulped, loudly, body shaking as the final words left his lips.  “You don’t have to-  I know that’s a lot.“

“I’d love to!”  Stiles flipped through his mother’s notes.  Sure enough, Stiles found something that looked similar enough to Derek’s request, and he pulled out the ingredients from their well-stocked fridge.  He texted Isaac, requesting a few ingredients they didn’t have, before focusing on the wide array of ingredients before him.  In a flurry, Stiles took to the ingredients, preparing the plentiful counter space.  “Since we’re doing comfort food, how about some home cooked mac and cheese to go with it? That was the favorite thing my mom cooked when I was a kid.  Gooey, cheese, and with little bits of bacon sprinkled in it!  You’ll love it, it’s great!  I have perfected that recipe over the years, but never get to cook it when Dad’s around.  He-  He hates anything that reminds him of mom.”

Stiles paused, picturing his father.  In the weeks since he’d joined the Hale Pack, he hadn’t received a single call.  Stiles wondered…  Did Noah even know he’d moved out?  He shook off the mental image, huffing as he got back to his food.

“Sounds good.”  Derek stepped up to the counter, to the left of Stiles.  “Let me help with this one if you don’t mind.  I’m Alpha, so I should be providing for my pack.”  He glanced up, meeting Stiles’ eyes.  The Alpha’s eyes shimmered red, if only for a moment.  “Or, at least…  We can do it together.  I’m not that great of a cook.  So maybe there are things I can’t do on my own, but I-  I’d rather help you than just sit by and do nothing.  Maybe I could pick up a few things from you, things I never learned on my own.  So that maybe, sometimes, I could provide for the pack on my own.  Let you take a break, you know?”

 _“What’s with the serious tone?  We’re just making dinner.”_ Stiles thought to himself.He let it go, knowing the Alpha had just dumped his heart out to Stiles and was probably just feeling the backlash of emotions.  Stiles felt the same way whenever he spoke to someone about his mother, her last days, and waking up from a nap beside her cold, lifeless body.

Stiles handed Derek a peeler, a scrub brush, and hefted a bag of potatoes into the drop-sink.  “Here, you do the cleaning and the peeling.  I’ll work on getting the meat nice and seasoned, and prep as much as I can for the rolls.  Let me know if you have any questions or need some advice.”

“I think I can handle that much, Stiles.”  Derek scoffed, readying his area for potato prep.

Stiles shook his head, rummaging through the nearest spice rack.  “Forgive me if I’m a little jumpy.  Your puppies have a tendency of trying to kill me in the kitchen.  Need I remind you about Isaac?”

Derek shuddered.  “No-  I’d rather not relieve the noises I heard coming out of Scott’s bathroom after that dinner.”  Pausing with a potato in his hand, Derek rose an eyebrow.  “Stiles, we can’t get food poisoning.  Do I want to ask what Isaac did with that food, and what it meant that I ate that monstrosity?”

“No, no you do not.”  Stiles waved fingers over his lips.  Some things were best left a mystery for everyone’s sake.

+++++

A roaring fire danced in the fireplace of a cabin nestled in the dense, snow-coated forests of northern Montana.  Away from the world, only silence echoed within the long, posh hallways of the mansion-sized home, dotted with the occasional sound of wildlife trotting on the outskirts of the land.

Sitting in the armchair before the fire, a man coughed into his hand, hacking away everything but his lungs, struggling to find breath.  A bandage, wrapped around the man’s eyes, came up against a head of soft brown hair, slightly peppered with greying strands.  The man sighed, leaning back against the headrest of his chair, taking long, deep breaths of air.

“Father-“  Stepping inside the cabin’s study, a tall woman with flowing brown hair and a slender figure carried a silver tray, stopping at the man’s footsteps.  “Your morning paper, coffee, and a little something extra for your reading pleasure.”

“Thank you, Kali.”  The man reached for his coffee mug, sipping its black contents.  “What sort of extra?  Have you found the true alpha I’m searching for?  I do tire of these worthless eyes day after day.  They need a suitable replacement.”  Removing his bandages, the man revealed a pair of greying, lifeless orbs.  As he picked up the manila envelope sitting atop the paper, his eyes slowly bled into a deep red glow.

“Not quite.  Still on the hunt for that.”  Kali leaned against the fire, with a wide smirk on her face. “It appears as though there’s some fresh blood in California.  Skim through the new pack announcements our Emissary brought us this morning.  Mostly trash packs not worth our time, but one name, in particular, stands out.”

Following the glow of his eyes, the man skimmed the contents of the National Emissary Report.  None stood out at first, but the man’s face erupted in a broad smile. “The Hale boy.  My my, I do remember Talia’s chubby little boy she doted on so much.  Seems as though he’s the last alive of those softhearted fools.  I’d never imagined he, of all people, would be standing after that entire endeavor.”  He flipped through the pages of the Hale report, reading the Alpha’s bites, and the maternal/paternal histories on the lot of them, for potential mating agreements between packs.  “He’s making quite a pack for himself, isn’t he?  This many people he’s turned in such a short time, but all humans, what a shame.  Lahey, Whittmore, Reyes, Boyd, and-“  The man’s lips stopped mid-sentence.  The wide smile curved into a short fit of laughter.  “Well now-  There’s a name I haven’t seen in quite some time.  My grandfather told stories of that name.  Could it possibly be a coincidence?  No-  Not with that many syllables.”

Kali chuckled, shaking her head.  “I thought you’d appreciate it.  I’ve asked our Emissary to look into the young man’s file and dig a little deeper into his ancestry.  If it’s a coincidence, then all we’ve lost is a little time.  If not-“  Kali licked her lips, tongue trailing over a pair of solid white fangs.   “Well, I needn’t say it.  Your orders, Father?”

Quietly pondering, the man slammed the file shut.  He reached out for the cane next to his armchair, extinguishing his eyes’ glow.  He hobbled with a limp in his step, off towards the expansive library that engulfed his study.  Each bone in his body creaked in pain as he stepped.  “Send my sons and just my sons.  I want this pack…  Tested.  The usual.”

“Aiden and Ethan?”  Kali scoffed, folding her arms.  “They’re boys, not men.  Ethan tends to show restraint on his journeys with me.  I fear he’s too soft-hearted for our world.  Aiden feigns his strength.  A good act, but just that…  An act.  They’d collapse if they ever had to do what I do.”

Chuckling, the man ran his hand over the spines of books in his collection, searching for one.  “Perhaps, but I have no desire the crush the pack into submission.  If I wanted them dead, they’d be dead.  This is a test, nothing more.  The boys will do just fine.  Better, actually.  I’d rather not seriously harm anyone in this pack just yet.”

“Certainly, I’ll make it happen, but Alpha Hale has a no-entry in place.  The Emissaries approved it for two years.  What shall I say to them when they question our movements?”  Kali reached into her pants, retrieving a cell phone.  She rummaged through her contacts, before pressing a button.

“Ethan and Aiden are moving on my orders, and are to be treated as if I were moving across borders.  That should suffice to silence the stuffed shirts.”  Deucalion selected the tome he wished for, tucking it under his arm.  “If they dare object to my order…  Incentivize them to change their mind however you see fit.”

A wry grin crossed Kali’s face, as a flash of red lit up her eyes.  “As you wish.  Your will shall be done, High Alpha Deucalion.”


	6. One for the Forgotten

Stiles remembered, quite fondly, of his weekends before he knew about werewolves.  Entire stretches of days spent sleeping in until noon, kicking back in his boxers, playing video games, or spending hours watching random videos on the internet.  Those sweet, peaceful memories…

Nowadays his weekends were spent in a grueling agony of werewolf boot camp, at the crack of dawn, with the Drill Instructor from Hell, Sergeant Hale, barking orders. 

On the outskirts of Beacon Forest, by the remnants of the Hale Mansion, Derek leveled an entire section of forest, transforming it into an obstacle course for the supernatural, including a section dedicated to dodging projectile weapons that Stiles thought only existed in anime.

Which, he would gladly be doing instead of the stamina training.  Huffing, Stiles dug deep as they hit the 20th mile of non-stop jogging, ducking under the low-hanging tree branches, hurdling over brushes, pitfalls, and the occasional trap, to stimulate visual training.  Derek intestinally built the hiking path the lapping around the entire Hale Estate to be as treacherous as possible.

"Move it, Isaac!  Don't you dare stop, or I'll add another 5 miles!"  Derek yelled at the front of the pack, sweat dribbling down his shirtless back, but otherwise jogging in a comfortable stride.  He hurdled over a twenty-foot hole in the ground, landing on the other side with ease.

At the back of the pack, Isaac groaned, struggling to keep his feet moving.  He gasped for air, as his sporty outfit soaked up enough sweat to double as a swimsuit. 

After clearing the same hurdle as Derek, Stiles fell back a ways from his spot at the front-end of the pack, jogging in time with Isaac's slower pace.  "Come on, almost done!  Watch out, I see another bramble trap!"  Stiles huffed.

In unison, Isaac and Stiles ducked under a thorn-covered branch, leaped over a bush of thorns, and ducked under one of Derek's traps that tossed a log in their direction. 

"Woo!  We got this!"  Stiles yelled out, throwing both arms up in the air. 

"Yeah-  Yeah-  Then I die."  Isaac groaned, trudging slowly behind Stiles.

"Ow!  Fuck!  Shit! Dammit!"  Scott roared.

 Stiles and Isaac blazed past Scott's limp body on the ground, who'd just smacked his head on yet another branch, tripped over a random root, and into a bush covered with thorns that dug into his body.  Minor cuts and scrapes lined his nearly-naked form, save for the pair of athletic shorts that hung loosely on his hips.  Just a mere five feet from the finish line. 

"Yikes…"  Stiles stopped just before the end of the track, to help Scott up on his feet.  His fellow Beta hissed as the cuts around his body began to bleed.  While the rest of the pack finished up, Stiles and Isaac helped Scott limp across, where they collapsed on the soft green grass just outside the Hale Mansion's remains.

While the Betas gasped for air, Derek loomed over them, folding his arms, standing as though he'd finished a lovely stroll in the park.  He sighed, shaking his head, stopping in front of Isaac, who proceeded to vomit off to the side.  "Isaac, you need to spend more time at the gym.  Hit a treadmill, you're not using your new muscles enough, and they're softening.  Get some more stamina."  Derek turned to Scott, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  "Scott, visual training with Erica every day after school this week. At this point, you should only be getting nicked a few times per run, and right now your body looks like it got in a fist with a puma and lost."  Finally, he turned to Stiles, offering a brief smile. "Stiles, good work.  You're improving.  Good pace, good visual skills, good stamina.  Keep it up."  He patted Stiles on the back.  "All of you, get some water, rest up, catch your breath, and recover. Meditate and focus on your healing skills if you're cut up.  We'll move on to hand-to-hand combat next.  You're all struggling with it."

While Derek walked off to offer advice to the rest of the Pack, Stiles eyed his Alpha curiously.  Since meatloaf night, Derek had been far kinder to everyone.  What was usually a barking session of insults and profanity over their performance had turned into genuine criticism.

"He's certainly… Different?"

A hand shot up, grabbing Stiles by the arm and yanking him down to the grass level.  He came face-to-face with Isaac.

"Dude, I'm- Dying.  Everything's hot.  I can't breathe.  Life is hell, just kill me now."  Isaac moaned, overdramatically.  He collapsed to the ground, feigning death, complete with the young Beta's tongue sticking all the way out.

Stiles rolled his eyes, hopping over to the nearby ice-chest and grabbing a handful of bottled drinks.  He uncaps one, shoving it into Isaac's mouth. "Here, drink up." 

Isaac devoured the cold beverage in just a few swallows.  He takes another one as Stiles offers it to him.

"Good lord, Isaac, you're dressed like you're a mall walker.  You and I are going shopping tonight, and we're getting you some real workout clothes.  Take off the damn shirt and yoga pants, and fight in your boxers, nobody here gives a damn. Storing up all that heat's just going to make you sweat more.  Then you'll get grumpy, and nobody likes a grumpy Isaac."  Stiles tosses Isaac a third bottle of water, before pouring the cold contents over Isaac's hair to help in the cooling process. 

"Too hot to move. Stiles-  Help…"  Isaac whined, splaying out over the ground.

"Drama queen." Stiles sighed, helping Isaac out of his shirt and yoga pants, leaving the Beta in just his boxer shorts.  He hands Isaac a final drink. "There.  Drink another one of these, cool off, then get your ass up and meditate to heal your scratches.  That'll do you better than anything and get your stamina back."  He stands up, patting Isaac on the back.

A sheepish smile crosses Isaac's face.  "Thanks, Stiles." 

Stiles strode over to Scott, who'd already sat up and struck a meditative pose.  The Beta's eyes shone gold, as he attempted to initiate his healing. From the constipated look on Scott's face, and the blood still dripping from his body, things were not going well.

"Doing okay over here, Scotty-boy?"  Stiles asked, offering a bottle of water.

"No,"  Scott grunted.  He gave up on his meditation, taking the drink from Stiles.  He uncapped it, sucking down the cold contents.

"What's wrong?" 

Scott poured the last bit of his drink over his hair and chest.  He crumpled the plastic bottle in his hands.  "I'm trying to heal, and I can't concentrate.  Every damn time I try to heal myself, I just-  I can't do it!"

Plopping down next to Scott, Stiles crossed his legs, patting Scott on the knee.  "Need some help?  I can anchor you down if you need a little more zen."

"No! I can do it!" Scott yelled, striking a pose once more. He growled, deep in his throat, as the Beta's eyes shone golden once more.  Several moments passed, as Scott's growling grew louder.  Eventually, he smacked the ground in front of him, kicking up dirt all over the area.  "Fuck, no I can't, and I'm a pathetic loser. I should be getting this by now, healing's the basic of the basics!  What the hell is wrong with me?"  He dropped his head, hiding the cuts from his face, and the soft mist that grew around his eyes.

Reaching over, Stiles clasped his hand on Scott's shoulder.  "Hey, better late than never.  Don't beat yourself up so much, you caught on to muscle and combat training way faster than I did!  You're putting on pounds of pure muscle, and fighting more and more like Derek!  For fuck's sake, you're intimidating these days, my man!  Even the seniors on the lacrosse team don't want to come anywhere near you on the field!" 

Stiles didn't need to stretch the truth in attempting to flattering Scott.  Ever since Scott joined the Pack, he took plenty of things more seriously now that he had control.  Better grades, thanks to more focus on his homework.  More time at the gym, motivated by Jackson's constant nagging of Scott's performance, and an incessant urge to outdo Derek in everything he did.  Oddly enough, even his fashion sense and hairstyle had improved dramatically, with Isaac's constant intervention (at Stiles' behest.).  The days of poufy Bieber hair were dead, with a much more slicked-back look like Derek or Jackson.

"I guess…"  Scott couldn't hide the coy smile crossing his face. One that faded within moments, as his eyes glanced off to the rest of the pack, sat a mile away from him, Stiles, and Isaac.  "Even if I am, though…  I just feel… Like I still don't belong here. Like there's a huge bridge between the rest of the pack and me.  No matter how good I am, it doesn't matter."  Scott bit his lip.  I don't get it…  How did you make friends with everyone so fast?  Erica and Boyd don't want anything to do with me.  Isaac's only nice to me because you're his first best friend."

Sighing, Stiles playfully slugged Scott on the shoulder.  "Well, I mean, you do act like a bitch to Derek all the time.  Derek's their Alpha, and in most cases, Derek saved their lives…  Especially Boyd and Erica, from what I hear.  I mean, I'd probably be pissed off too, if you spent all your free time badmouthing someone I was close to."

Scott dropped his head. There wasn't a need to say "you're right," because they both knew it.  Nearly a year of trying to bridge the gap between Derek and Scott and the Beta finally seemed to "get it."  Derek was a dick, but he wasn't a monster.

"Why do you still hate him, anyway?  Derek didn't bite you, even if he did give you some of the shittiest advice ever. Sure, he tried to break you and Allison up, but in all fairness, that's probably for the best, since her parents both want you dead, and her Aunt turned out to be a psychopath murdering bastard."  Stiles shrugged, repeating the same tired thing he'd told Scott a thousand times over. "Maybe…  Try to mend some fences?"

With a deep breath, Scott quietly nodded.  "Maybe you're right."  

Stiles grinned, scooting behind Scott.  He pressed his chest against Scott's back, wrapping both arms around Scott's stomach. "Good.  Now come on, close your eyes, and let me help you out with this healing.  Take a deep breath.  Focus on my heartbeat.  Sync it with yours.  Then… Meditate, and let the healing powers flow."

"Okay…  Okay, I've-  I've got this."  Scott relaxed into Stiles' chest.  His ears perked up, catching on to the sound of Stiles' heartbeat.  He took several breaths to get his heart beating the same as Stiles'.  Before long, Scott reached a level of calm and control, enough for steam to billow out from his hundreds of cuts.  One by one, they sealed themselves, cutting off the bleeding.  Blood the once covered his body evaporated from Scott's body heat, cleansing his entire body. 

Leaning forward, Stiles pressed a gentle kiss on the back of Scott's neck.  "See, bro?  You can totally do this."

Disconnecting their limbs, Scott "Thanks, man." 

"Anytime, bro." 

Satisfied that Scott was in good spirits, Stiles caught sight of Boyd, dry heaving off in a corner by himself. Stiles raided the ice chest once more, and joined his fellow Beta, gently rubbing the man's back. "Heya, Boyd!  Hanging in there?  Here, drink up, but do it slowly."

Taking a beverage, Boyd sliced off the cap of the bottle with his claw and chugged its contents.  He came up for air, gasping as he clutched at his stomach, leaning up against a tree for support.  "No.  Fuck this shit.  Hard."

Chuckling, Stiles leaned on the same tree, side-by-side with Boyd.  "Come on, you're doing better!  You didn't pass out this week, so there's that!"  He gently slugged Boyd on the shoulder.  "Drink up, and just remember, Saitama didn't become One Punch Man without all the hard work!"

Boyd finished off the last of the water, growling playfully in Stiles' direction.  "Don't compare this to anime, Stiles.  I appreciate the kindness, but I'm in too much pain to call that show out on its bullshit.  Besides, I'm not Saitama.  I'm a dork who'd rather be inside, doing anything else but this bullshit training."

Stiles nodded, flashing Boyd a quick smile.  "Later, then.  When we're all done here, we can totally kick back and relax for the rest of the weekend. You owe me a chess rematch, anyway! You can call me out on all my garbage-tier anime obsessions then, and I'll make us some cookies or some shit, maybe some of that punch you like, and we'll veg out all night as a reward for our experience in hell."  Chuckling, Stiles nudged Boyd in the stomach.  "Oh, but hands off  SAO, because I will defend that show to my dying breath."

"SAO is terrible, and you should feel terrible," Boyd grumbled.

"Whatever, man.  I like it!"  Handing off another bottle of water to Boyd, Stiles, leaped up from the tree, as Boyd's breathing became more regular.  "Drink up, man.  Keep your head down, and let the rest of us go first on hand-to-hand.  You'll do fine, buddy!"

Boyd offered a quiet smile in return.  "Thanks, Stiles."

Given that Jackson was doing pushups with one arm, Stiles figured the all-star jock didn't need (or want) any support.  The dirty glare Jackson shot Stiles all but confirmed it. 

Instead, Stiles finally grabbed a bottle of cold water for himself, eventually taking a drink and allowing himself to mediate.  The few cuts and scrapes on his arms healed quickly, and Stiles' stamina returned after a short while.  As he finished up his own mediation, Erica joined his side, bumping him out of the way and helping herself to water as she peeled out of her shirt.

Stiles gaped at Erica's form, surprised by what the young woman hid under her clothes; Abs like Derek, arms like Scott, legs like Jackson, hair, and complexion like Isaac, and a total toned figure that put them all to shame.  Unlike the rest of the pack, Erica didn't huff or puff from their training. No, the Beta's form practically glowed in sweat, reading and rearing for more.

"You're-  Looking good,"  Stiles said, unable to censor the obvious.

Erica smirked, leaning over and pecking a quick kiss on Stiles' chink.  "Thanks, Honey-buns.  I really appreciate it.  You're looking fabulous yourself."  She licked her lips, giggling.  "Although, you look a little hot.  I think you should strip down like Isaac.  Although, ditch the boxers, too.  All that clothing is so…  Restrictive. You'll "swing" a lot more freely if you know what I mean.  Maybe make Jackson a little envious of what he's missing?"  She winked, earning a blush out of Stiles.

Clearing his throat, Stiles looked away from Erica's predatory gaze.  He laughed it off.  "Nice try, Mrs. Robinson.  You've seen enough of my pale butt already, thank you very much."  He fiddled absentmindedly with the cap on his water bottle, trying to think of anything else.  "Uh-  You know… I can't believe how good you are with all this werewolf stuff?  How on earth did you learn all of this so easily?  You keep perfect pace with Derek, and that guy is inhuman. Literally!"

There was little doubting the pecking order of the pack's strength.  Derek, naturally, stood at the top of the tower, with Erica just behind him. Scott and Jackson hovered beneath Erica, and Stiles felt like he was just below the dominant duo.  Boyd and Isaac fell at the bottom, though mostly out of their mutual distaste of training, and tendency to skip leg day.

Erica's demeanor faded, her gaze falling down to the ground.  She shut her eyes, sighing as she plopped down on the grass.  "Well, sweet cheeks, when you spend your whole life wanting to do something but can't, and then a magical bite gives it to you, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth."  She nodded to the rest of the pack, scoffing.  "Unlike the pathetic losers over there, I tend to appreciate the fact that this bite gave me an amazing body, with perfect curves, bigger breasts, hair to die for, and a brain that doesn't cripple me from enjoying life at best or threatens to kill me at worst.  I'm living life for the first time, and like hell is anyone, especially myself, going to slow me down."

Stiles felt Erica' anger boiling over and swore he could smell the spicy tinge of pine that accompanied her natural forest scent.  Not that he blamed her for being mad about wasted health.

Erica's transformation all those months ago made Stiles tend to forget the Erica Reyes that existed before. The soft, pale, underweight, often-bullied girl who spent month-long stretches at a time in the hospital for her frequent seizures. He recalled seeing one of her worst ones, back in middle school, going as far as losing control of her bladder, in the middle of the school cafeteria.  She'd been so pale and lifeless, choking to death had one of the teachers not intervened. The only other time Stiles saw another human being look so sick had been his own mother, right before she passed on.

Stiles plopped down beside Erica, pulling her into a side-hug.  "Well, I'm glad everything's better for you.  You're amazing, through and through!"

Erica's smile returned. "Yep.  I'm a bombshell bitch,  the envy of everyone at Beacon High, living in a fantastic condo, with hot guys that walk around half naked all the time, and Derek's credit card with no limit."  She giggled, letting out a deep sigh.  "Now, all I'm missing is a few kids from the high school laying six feet under, and I'd be the happiest girl in the world!"

Stiles' stomach sank, coating in ice.  Something about Erica's words left him uneasy…  Almost…  Cautious. "Huh?  What…  Do you mean by that?"

"Oh, well, haven't gotten quite around to that part of my perfect life.  Someday, but not right now. "Erica inspected her nails, which shifted into sharp, curved claws.   "You remember that time a year or so ago when a couple of kids put a video of me having a seizure in gym class?  Well, I found a name of one of the fuckers, and know damn well I could get him to spill about the others.  Unfortunately, Derek doesn't approve of me choking the truth out of him.  He claims he'll find another way, but I'm not going to wait forever."

There was no humor in Erica's tone.  Stiles felt the boiling heat emanating from Erica's body, and the low chill erupting from his own.

"Erica-  I get it, I'd be pretty mad too, but-"

Erica's clawed hand slammed into the ice chest, slicing through it like butter.  "Pretty mad?"  A dark gold glow flashed from Erica's eyes.  "Stiles, I know you were never part of the problem, but do you realize what those fuckers put me through?"

"She used my name." Fear swept through Stiles' chest.

Erica growled, her face warping into sharp, wolfish features.  "Having those seizures were bad enough.  Having to watch it play, over and over again, on countless websites, hearing the laughter of my classmates making fun of me, with people mocking me from all corners of the globe, on a platform that's eternal?  Oh, no, I'm not mad, Stiles.  I'm livid.  I want blood."

Stiles shook off his fear. He could only imagine the disaster that a vengeful Erica could have on their school, and the devastation she could leave in her wake.

 "You realize there are hunters in this town.  If you touched anyone, the Argents would-"

"Then I'd have to end them, too."  Erica laughed, shaking her head.  "Why do you think I'm working so hard in training?  Before I can do anything, I have to be as strong as an Alpha, stronger than any hunter, and faster than a speeding bullet.  I've got a long way to go, but I'm getting there.  Someday, I'll-" 

Stiles grabbed Erica's hand, gripping it tightly.  "Erica- You can't."

"I'm not having this conversation, sweetie.  My mind's made up."  Erica tore her hand away, eyes blazing.  "Somebody has to pay for what they did to me.  There's no way to take back what they did, and I'm not about to show them any mercy.  God knows I've never been shown any mercy in my lifetime!  Otherwise, I wouldn't be all over the fucking web!"  Folding her arms, Erica growled deep in her throat. "There's no way to take it all back, Stiles.  Nobody, and I mean, nobody can take it all back."

Stiles' mind raced, like a familiar friend's warm voice echoed in the back of his head.  He smiled.  "What if I told you- Maybe we could do something about all of this?  That we could get you off the web?"

"You can't." Erica's eyes glared right into Stiles' gut, sending a sharp fear running down his spine.

Gulping, Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.  "What if…  I could?"

"You- Can't-"  Erica rose an eyebrow.  "Can you?"

Stiles nodded, giving Erica a thumbs up.  "After practice, you come with me.  Can't make any promises, but I know a guy that could definitely give us a fighting chance.  You know him, he's-"

"Stiles, you're up!" Derek yelled, from the middle of the open clearing.  He flexed his arms while wrapping his knuckles with boxer's tape, covering up his claws.  "Come on, we can't wait all day!"

Stiles hopped up, dusting off the dirt from his pants.  He winked in Erica's direction.  "We'll talk more after practice.  Just trust me, okay?  This guy's the best!"

Jogging over to Derek's side, Stiles snagged the boxing tape from Derek, taping up his hand, knuckles, and claws. As one of the few safety measures Mama McCall put in place, the tape kept their nails from digging into each other and avoided some nasty cuts.  As Stiles finished, Derek bent down, taking a fighting pose.

"Same as last weekend, Stiles.  Keep your eyes on me, your body low, and try to dodge my punches.  Don't worry about countering, this is all about you learning how to survive, got it?" 

Stiles nodded.  "Got it, Der.  I'm ready!"  He bent down, taking the same fighting pose as Derek, taking a deep breath.

Derek's face shifted into its wolfish figure.  He lunged forward, within Stiles' personal bubble in an instant.

Gasping, Stiles ducked to miss Derek's first punch that flew just above Stiles' head.  Stiles rolled, missing a swipe of Derek's other hand, hopping back up to shaky feet.  As relentless as ever, Derek leaped forward again, swinging his fists in Stiles' direction, one after another.  Struggling to dodge, Stiles forced his own hands up to take the punches, cringing at the pain of the impact from each blow.

"Quit letting me hit you!"  Derek screamed, swiping his leg down, and forcing Stiles to fall on his back. Derek reached out, planting his bandaged hand against Stiles' throat.  HIs eyes flashed red.  "If my claws weren't wrapped up, your arms would be ripped to shreds, and your neck would be torn out.  This "fight" would have been over already!"

Stiles forced himself up. "I-  I know,"  Brushing off the dust, Stiles balled his hands into fists, glaring back at Derek.  "Let's do this again.  I'll get it…. I have to."

Taken aback at first, Derek's eyes seemed to scan Stiles from top to bottom.  Eventually, the Alpha smirked, raising his fists once more. "Good attitude.  You'll only learn by doing.  Focus on dodging.  If you feel overwhelmed, you need to let your wolf take over, hear me?"

Stiles nodded.  "Yes, Alpha."

The next sparring match began similarly to the last.  Stiles ducked from Derek's first few strikes, tucked and rolled from the next set, and as Derek's next barrage came, Stiles held up his hands out of human instinct. He forced his arms down, ducking at the last second to roll between Derek's legs, and on the opposite side of the Alpha.

"That's the way!" Derek yelled, rearing back his fist for a steady swing.

Stiles grinned, running forward to face Derek's next challenge, only for his feet to trip over one and other. He proceeded to fall forward, trying to catch himself as he ran smack into Derek's flying fist.  The impact struck against Stiles' nose, accompanied by a loud crunch of broken nasal bones.  Stiles' vision blurred, his mind wandered, lost to the universe as he continued to fall, heading straight for the ground.

"Stiles!"  Derek rushed to Stiles' side, catching the Beta before he fell to the ground.  He secured Stiles tightly against his chest.

The other Betas (Jackson included) rushed to their side, crowding around Derek, all eyes focused on Stiles. 

Worried words left the Pack's lips, all missed by Stiles' waning consciousness and the loud throbbing in his head.  The words became more comfortable to hear over time, as the pain evaporated, and the blurred world slowly came into focus once more.

"What's…  What's that on your arm?"  Scott muttered in horror.

"Ew!  It looks like…  Plague !"  Erica squealed.

"Would all of you back up and give him air!  Jesus Christ, he's a werewolf, you've all been hit just as hard, and Stiles is twice as resilient!"  Derek yelled, panic in the Alpha's tone.

Numb to the pain, Stiles' eyes fluttered into focus at the sight of Derek's hand pressed against his face. Large black veins protruded from Derek's arm, with the Alpha's eyes blazing red.  The Alpha was…. Warm to the touch.  Like an electric blanket that melted away the pain ebbing from his nose.

"-but to answer your question, Scott, I'm healing him.  If any of you would pick up the pace with that training, I might show you someday how to take the pain away from a fellow member of the pack."  Derek spat, before his eyes gazed down, focused on Stiles. "With us again?  Thank God, Stiles, I'm sorry.  I wasn't aiming for your face, but your feet seemed to have other plans.  I was so focused on training that I didn't realize you were falling."

"Ow…"  Stiles leaned up, squeamish as the flow of blood erupted from his nose, coating his shirt in a sea of red.

"Don't move.  I'm trying to set your nose back in place." Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, keeping the Beta close as his arms continued to drain away any and all discomfort out of Stiles.  He adjusted the bones in Stiles' note as the healing went on.  "Scott, go get him a bottle of water.  Isaac, get the towels from my car.  Boyd, Mrs. McCall left us a medical kit by the obstacle course, can you go get that for me?"

The pack scattered immediately, rushing to complete Derek's tasks.  Scott tilted water into Stiles' mouth, while Isaac cleaned up the blood as best he could, and Derek bandaged up Stiles' nose to staunch the bleeding.

"So aside from walking into a punch, how'd I do?"  Stiles spoke, in a nasal tone, happy to rest his head on Derek's chest.

Derek laughed. "Believe it or not, you're doing better.  I can see where your body is making the right movements, but your brain isn't able to keep up what it wants to do with actual body movements.  Unfortunately, your greatest skill is holding you back."

"What skill?" Stiles groaned, slamming his eyes shut. "From what I can tell, I'm still a grade A clutz when it comes to being useful.  An obstacle course, fine!  Lacrosse? I'm becoming a pro!  Doing anything good that might actually save my friends?  Fuck me, right?"

"That's actually your weakness.  You care too much."

"Huh?"

Derek gestured to the Betas that hovered around them.  "You're anchored too heavily to the pack, and they keep you in a human state of mind.  Every minute of every day, you're stuck in your own head, not letting your wolf have any control.  You're the exact opposite of Scott.  You're too in control.  In fact, the only time I've seen you out of control was the night you took the bite. You need to learn to let go. Instinct, as a wolf, is your greatest power.  Unleash it, and you'll be able to fight a thousand times more effectively than you are as a human."

Stiles thought over Derek's advice.  The Alpha's words had an absolute truth about them.  Sure, Stiles could shift on-command, when needed, but that never made him feel any stronger than when he was human.  In the past, when Scott transformed into a partial werewolf, he became a powerhouse.  When Stiles shifted, all Stiles felt was a little more furry than usual, and perhaps a little more focused.  Was that why he couldn't fight himself out of a paper bag?

"How do I do that?" Stiles asked.

"That's- An excellent question."  Derek helped Stiles to his feet, thinking quietly to himself for several moments. "Most people try to bind their wolf, to prevent it from going out of control.  I've never met someone who had too much control, and had trouble letting it out."  He rubbed the back of his neck.  "Then again, you're a special case all around.  I'll contact some friends I met in New York, see if any of them have an idea." 

"So, I'm screwed until then?"

"For the meantime, yes. That being said, there are ways to force your wolf out."  Derek walked Stiles away from the clearing, and off to the parked cars just outside of the Hale Mansion ruins. "Though it's nasty, forcing a deathly injury on yourself will kick in your baser instincts.  Or seeing a packmate you care about in mortal danger.  Or I could force your wolf to the surface, as an Alpha, but it's painful, and could potentially make you feral."

Stiles rolled his eyes. None of them seemed like a viable option.  "I think I'll wait."

"Probably a good idea." Derek smiled, stopping in front of his Camaro.  "Feeling better?  Think you can handle yourself while I finish up training with the rest?"

"I think so.  Thanks for the first aid."  Stiles brushed a hand against his nose, surprised at the dull ache that remained, instead of the broken mess it had been not several minutes earlier.

"Good.  Go lay down in the car, turn on the AC, meditate to heal yourself, and we'll be done early today."  Derek handed Stiles a ring of keys, before turning back to the rest of the pack.   "Boyd! You're-"

"Have Scott go first."

"Huh?"

Stiles unlocked Derek's car, sliding into the passenger seat.  He leaned back, cranked the AC and radio up, closing his eyes.  "Boyd's wiped out.  Give him more time to recover.  Isaac, too. Scott and Erica are fine, and Scott really needs to prove himself right now.  Maybe don't make him look like a total failure today?  He's trying, Derek, and he needs a "pick me up.""

Derek thought in silence for a few moments, before shutting the passenger door on the side.  "Scott! With me!  Let's see what you've learned!"

Stiles smiled, happy to pass out in peace in Derek's car, satisfied that Boyd and Isaac would get a little longer break, and Scott could (potentially) feel a bit more confident in his abilities.

 

++++++

Content that his nose was fully healed, and everyone had plenty of time to rest up from Derek's hellish training, Stiles drove Erica to the nicer part of town, just a few houses down from Jackson's palatial childhood mansion.

Stiles strode up to the front door and knocked.  "I'm telling you, Erica, he's the best.  If anyone can fix your problem, he can."

Erica rolled her eyes. "Somehow I doubt it."

The front door opened, revealing a shirtless, sweating Danny Mahelani, with a towel wrapped around his neck. As his classmate wiped the beads of water dripping down his chiseled abdomen, Stiles smiled.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet us.  I know it's short notice and I interrupted your workout, but seriously, thank you, Danny."

Danny smirked, eyeing Stiles from top to bottom.  "Anytime, Stilinksi, my man,"  He gestured for the duo to enter his home, never breaking eye contact as he guided them down the many hallways, to the back end of the house.  "You're looking pretty ripped these days.  Not bad, man, are you hitting the gym more these days?" 

Stiles flushed, clearing his throat as they entered Danny's room, lined wall to wall with full-screened monitors, several desktops, a few servers, and practically every Apple product under the sun.  News stories streamed on several, while what appeared to be complex coding and matrix-like screens took up the rest. "You could say that.  Scott's been helping me out lately, and I've got a new trainer."

Tossing his towel to the side, Danny slid a tight-fitting tank top over his chest.  He grinned.  "Whoever you've got is doing a fine job.  You know, we should party at the Jungle sometime, with Lahey.  I bet you guys would get a ton of drinks on the house."

"Yeah…  I bet I would-"  Stiles thought back to his first experience with The Jungle, and the free coke he'd earned from a guy, and the fashion advice he'd gotten from a few drag queens.  He shook off the memory of those days before he felt much confidence in himself. "Anyway, you know Erica, right?"

"Yeah,"  Danny smirked, shaking her hand as she approached. "Bet you get a lot of free drinks, too.  Looking good these days, Reyes.  Love the outfit.  Very chic."

Erica grinned.  "Well, aren't you sweet!  It's a shame we don't bat for the same teams, that kind of flirting would get you places."

Danny laughed, turning back to Stiles.  "So, what's up Stilinksi?  You said you had a problem with computers and servers?"

Nodding, Stiles took a seat at one of Danny's many computer chairs.  "Any chance you can get a video taken off the internet for us?  I'm talking about the one of Erica when she- You know."

"Stiles-"  Danny snorted, hopping up on the desk next to Stiles. He shook his head.  "Have you ever heard the phrase "what goes on the internet, stays on the internet"?"

"Yeah, but from what I can tell-"  Stiles reached into his front pocket, unfolding several sheets of paper.  He slid it across to Danny.  "I spent this afternoon looking up where they're hosted, and there are only about 50 websites where it's stuck at, everywhere else is just a direct link.  Wipe out those fifty, and the rest should go down by association.  I mean, if you can hack in and out of the Pentagon for fun, this should be a breeze."

Danny glanced over the list of sites, momentarily quiet as he evaluated the challenge.  He sighed.  "Stiles, it wasn't the Pentagon, it was an FBI database, and I almost got arrested for it if I hadn't cooperated on making their security stronger.  I'm not a super hacker.  I'm an above-average hacker with a good computer and know the ins and outs of programming and software engineering.  Stuff like this isn't easy."

Erica dropped her head. "See, I told you, Stiles." She folded her arms, to hide the pair of claws that erupted from her hands.

"-Oh come on, Danny…" Stiles hopped up from the chair, clasping his hands together to beg.  "Can't you at least try?  You're the only person I know that could possibly accomplish this.  We're talking about Erica here, doesn't she deserve a little happiness?  Especially after all the shit, she's been through?  If anyone needs help, it's Erica!"

"Stiles-"  Erica muttered, lifting her head to gaze sweetly at her packmate.

"This is a pretty big favor you're asking."  Danny sighed, hopping off the desk and sliding into a seat at his biggest monitor. He clicked away on a keyboard, pulling up each of the main sites from Stiles' list, and doing something to each page, where a sea of text and coding appeared.  "This is very illegal.  I mean, last time I did a favor this big, at least you had Miguel to help make things…  Easier?" He rose his eyebrows, coyly smiling in Stiles' direction.

"Oh,"  Stiles muttered, looking behind him at Erica's figure. His only "material" to work with at the moment wouldn't' work for Danny.  It took a few moments before a lightbulb went off in Stiles' head. The Beta's face burned bright red as the realization of Danny's "request" became more obvious. "Oh!"

Sliding beside Danny, sharing the small space a shared office chair could offer, Stiles began fanning his face.  "Man, it's boiling in here.  Mind if I take this off?"  Without bothering to wait for a response, Stiles peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. 

Danny's eyes flared to life, eyeballing Stiles' chiseled, new physique.  He whistled through his teeth, a bright smile beaming across his face. 

Stiles gulped, unsure of how to think of being eye candy.  "Anyway, help me out, and maybe I'd owe you a pretty big favor."

"Should I leave?" Erica asked, face shimmering a crimson red.

"Well, that's a good start."  Danny grinned, ignoring Erica's comment.  "How about we hit the Jungle together, have a few drinks, and a fun night out on the town?"

"I think I could handle that."  Stiles nodded, folding his arms to cover his bare chest. "I'll bring Isaac, too. He's never been "out" before. I bet he'd love to have a few dances, too."

"Alright, then." Reaching for a pen, Danny scribbles some numbers on Stiles' arm.  "Here's my digits.  Give me a call next Saturday, and we'll make plans.  I'll do what I can on this list, but I make no promises, and it'll take me a long time.  I expect some top-shelf booze for this, got it?"

"You're the best, man." Stiles grinned, hopping off the chair and slipping back into his buttoned up-shirt.  "I'll leave you to it.  Thanks, again!"

Danny pouted.  "What, that's it?  I just get a peekaboo?  At least Miguel put on that tight shirt for a while!"

"Knock a few off that list, and maybe I'll let you peek somewhere else."  Stiles winked back at Danny, his stomach hopping at all this newfound confidence in his body image.

"You're a fucking tease, Stilinksi," Danny rolled his eyes, clacking away at his keyboard in a furious speed.  "Don't forget, Stilinksi!  Top shelf! This next weekend!  I'm not a cheap date!"

Satisfied that he'd done all he could, Stiles dragged Erica out of the Mahelani household, and back outside to Derek's vehicle.  As he buckled himself in, Erica reached out, grabbing Stiles' hand.

"Honey-buns, I had no idea you were into Danny.  You should have told me, I would have hooked you two up ages ago!  For fuck's sake, you don't go dressing like that to a crush's house?  Plaid? Really?"  Erica rambled, shooting Stiles a disappointed glare.

"I'm not into him, really. Not as boyfriend material, anyway. He's just a bit much for me.  Not in a bad way, but I'm more of a couch potato. Clubs, booze, and dancing aren't my dig. I'd rather stay at home, read a book, play some video games, or cuddle.  My ideal boyfriend is probably a nerd."  Stiles said, slipping a key into the ignition.  The car roared to life.  "Anyway, you heard Danny.  He can't make any promises, but at least he's giving it a shot. Hopefully, he's motivated enough to help us out.  Fuck, I'm going to need a fake ID…  That'll cost me a pretty penny.  Or, at least, it's going to cost Derek a pretty penny."

Erica's mouth gaped open, quietly contemplating for several minutes.  "So, back there-  Al that flirting…. Was that just for-  You're not into-  That- Why'd you?"  Collecting herself, Erica slapped each cheek on her face. "Forgive me for being blunt, but did you just pimp yourself out for me?"

"I think I did." A wide grin covered Stiles' face. "I can't believe that actually worked.  Huh-  I guess I am attractive to gay guys. Awesome!  Is this how the hot girls and guys feel all the time?  Holy shit, being a professional whore is now a valid profession for me!  Hot damn!"  He pumped both fists into the air.  Which he immediately brought down.  "Uh, don't tell my dad.  Or Derek. Or Scott.  Definitely not Scott.  He doesn't need a mental image of me in a banana hammock dancing on stage with a stripper pole with a bunch of cash stuffed down my ass."  Stiles immediately shook off the thought. "Know what?  My professional whore days are done with.  Even I don't want that mental image.  Not with my pasty thighs."

Erica laughed.  A full-bodied, mighty laugh.  She doubled over, tears rolling down her face as she clutched onto her stomach. 

"Oh come on, give me a little credit here!  I'm not that bad!"  Stiles pouted.

"No, no, it's not-  Not that."  Erica wiped the tears from her face.  She leaned over the car, practically strangling Stiles with a powerful hug.  "Nobody's ever done something like this for me!  Nobody's ever…  Stood up for me.  Thank you honey-"  Erica paused, correcting herself.  "Thanks…. Stiles.  You're a true friend." 

Stiles grinned.  "Happy to help.  You're my friend and my pack mate.  We've got to watch each other's back, you know."

A spark erupted in Stiles' chest, creating a warmth he'd never quite felt before, which spread across his body, from his head all the way to his toes.  His heart raced, feeling almost as though he had two hearts beating in his chest, at once.

Somehow-  He felt stronger.  As if that made any sense.

Lifting herself up, Erica yanked Stiles out of the driver's seat, throwing him into the back.  She slid into the driver's seat, smirking as she squealed tires getting out onto the main road.  "Speaking of watching your back, you and I are going to the mall. You need a total wardrobe makeover if you're going clubbing, and I will totally spring for a quality fake ID, you totally deserve to have as much fun as you want this weekend!  As for your new look…  I'm thinking…  Booty shorts, a fashionable pair of bikini-briefs, and a tank-top to show off your new figure."

A sense of dread washed over Stiles.  "How about a new Batman shirt, some jeans, and a pair of boxers with hearts on them?"

"Oh, Stiles…  You're so adorable."  Erica shifted gears, hitting the highway at full speed.  Her eyes glowed, shooting Stiles a deadly gaze into the rear-view mirror.  "No."

 

 


	7. One for Eternity

After an uneventful week of practice, training, and the drudgery of high school, Stiles beamed as he and the rest of the pack walked towards the glowing pink and emerald neon sign that hung overhead. 

“Remind me again how you tricked me into this?”  Derek folded his arms, which bulged the muscles through his sheer tank top.  The slightest bit of white hairspray had been mixed in with a strong gel, slicking his hair back stylishly.  “Or why I agreed to let you and Erica dress me up?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Derek’s waist.  “Come on, Derek.  We’ve been over this.  We’re all just a bunch of kids out on a Saturday night, out to have fun, bond, and come together as a pack!  What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Being arrested for drinking underage, being arrested for possession of a fake ID, federal charges for plagiarising said ID, entering a club underage, and just all the general unpleasantness of going to a club all about sex while you’re underage.”  Derek ticked off each point on his fingertips as he rambled.  Before long, he glared at each member of the pack, including Jackson at the far back who’d been drug from the pack house against his will by Erica.  “I repeat again, as an order from your Alpha, that NONE of you are to do anything that would constitute as sex with anyone in this club that you don’t know, or who’s more than 5 years older than you.  Trust me on this one-“  He balled his hand into a tight fist.  “Don’t waste your first time, or hell, any time, with someone you’ll regret later.”

Quiet, annoyed murmurs echoed through the pack as they each took their place in line, waiting for the front bouncer.  Stiles glanced up, watching Derek’s eyes soften.  As though his Alpha were a million miles away.

“There you are, Stilinksi!” 

Danny bounced from the front of the line, whistling as he took in the sight of Stiles’ tight fitting jeans, and the muscle shirt that lined out each and every muscle in his abdomen. He glanced over Scott’s paper-thin henley, Isaac’s flower-print tank top, Erica’s leather ensemble, Boyd’s cut-off shirt, stopping to at Jackson-  In a basic black t-shirt and jeans.  “Good to see you dressed for the occasion, Jackie.  Though…. What bring you out with these guys?”

Jackson rolled his eyes, brushing past Stiles and Derek.  “This is Derek.  You know, the guy I told you about who’s training me?  I was forced here against my will, to waste my precious time, all in the name of team bonding.”

“Oh!”  Danny cocked a smile in Derek’s direction.  “You the one working out Stilinksi, too?  Any chance you’re looking for some new blood?”

A coy smile crossed Derek’s face.  “You could say that.  I’m always looking for new blood.”  He chuckled.

Erica cackled in the background, while Stiles smacked his own forehead at his Alpha’s shit-eating grin. “You think you’re so funny, Der, huh?” 

“I have my moments.” Derek flashed a white smile Stiles’ way.

Danny grinned. “Sweet!  Let’s talk sometime soon!  Here’s my digits, hot stuff.  Oh, and go ahead and call me sometime, anyway.  Whether you’ll be my personal trainer or not.”  Winking, Danny reached out, dragging Stiles by the hand, cutting through the crowd, with the pack following after them.  

Upon reaching the front bouncer, a broad-shouldered man about half the muscle size of Derek, Danny whipped out an ID.  “Hey, Bob! Long line tonight, huh?  Wasn’t near this crazy last week.”

“Bob” chuckled, handing Danny back the ID.  “Yeah, it’s been pretty busy since “Mr. Big” took the stage.  Old lady Sophia really did a nice job of hiring him.”  He snagged Stiles’ ID next, eyeing it up and down. Smirking, Bob slid the ID back into Stiles’ hands.  “Dirty Kevin’s gotten better.  These fake IDs almost look real!  No go, kid. You and your friends hit the road.”

Before Stiles could open his mouth to argue, Danny slipped several twenties into Bob’s front pocket. “Quit teasing, asshole.  They’re with me, Bob, and I’ll keep them out of trouble.  In case that’s a problem, here’s a little something extra for you.” Raising up, Danny pressed a quick kiss on the bouncer’s forehead.

Bob flushed, clearing his throat.  He patted the cash back into his pocket, out of sight.  He pointed at Stiles and the rest of his pack.  “Stay out of the bathrooms, all of you.  You need to piss, you take it outside.  Want any booze, you take that up with Terry.  That shit’s none of my business.”

“Why can’t we go into the bathrooms?  Are they out of order?”  Scott asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danny and Stiles both snorted in unison.  Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose.  The others, Bob included, shook in laughter, pushing the entire pack through the door. 

“Oh my God, you’re so innocent.”  Danny patted Scott on the shoulder.  “Don’t worry, Scotty-boy, we’ll take care of that tonight.  You just stick close to me and let the corruption flow through you.”

Once inside, Stiles and the Pack navigated through the pitch-back club, with only the strobing neon lights overhead to guide their path.  Scantily-clad men danced on the multiple stages, dancing and weaving in time with the beat.  Patrons young and old took up the dance floor, with little space in between their gyrating figures.  The bar, at capacity, filled up quickly with patrons, in varying states of intoxication.

“Hard pass,”  Boyd muttered, grabbing a book from under his shirt. He nodded to the unoccupied area next to the front entrance.  Without much ceremony, he popped open the book, leaning back against the nearest wall.

Derek sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “Well, at least we got him out of the house?”

“Baby steps, Der. Baby steps.”  Stiles patted Derek on the back.

Erica squealed at the dance floor, grabbing Isaac and Scott’s hands.  “Come on boys, I need some arm candy.  Don’t be afraid to touch, I don’t bite…. Much.”  She whisked Isaac and Scott off to the dance floor, where they smooshed in between the hundreds of gyrating bodies.  Sandwiched between the two boys, Erica danced, laughing the entire time as Isaac and Scott flailed their arms and legs, neither knowing exactly how to dance to the high-tempo beat.

“I need a drink.” Jackson rolled his eyes, stomping away from the pack.  “Come to get me when we’re done wasting time!”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Still as cheerful as ever, I see. Dude needs to learn how to relax.” With a wide grin, Danny took Stiles’ hand, nodding in the direction of the dance floor.  “Ready to go, Stilinksi?”

A bright flush crossed Stiles’ face, at the heat radiating from Danny’s touch.  While he hadn’t learned many of the “smells” that constituted human emotion, Stiles could take a wild guess that the stench of musk that permeated the air in the club, and the overwhelming smell coming off Danny, was arousal.  Of course, Danny’s other hand clasping at Stiles’ butt was all the evidence he needed. “Yeah.”

Guided to the dance floor, Stiles and Danny stopped on the outskirts of the massive mosh pit.  The song playing shifted to a much slower pace, as the patrons of the club switched from mindless flailing into more sensual touching. 

Taking Stiles into his arms, Danny began to sway back and forth.  “Thanks for taking me out tonight.  Coming to a club by myself all the time sucks.  This is totally worth all the bullshit illegal hacking.”

“How’s that going?” Stiles asked as he and Danny swayed into the dance floor, in between the heated bodies of the other club-goers.

Danny shrugged. “Halfway done, and most of them didn’t even notice me rooting around their directories.  The other sites have a lot more security, so if I want to be quiet, it’ll take more time.  Should be done sometime soon.  I’ve got some buddies in the underground willing to help me out, and my protégé is handling one on his own.  Come by the school computer lab Monday after school, and I’ll introduce you.  He’s a smart guy.”

“Wow-“  Stiles smiled, tucking himself a little closer to Danny. He rose an eyebrow.  “Though I’m a little curious…. You did all of this for a little flirting?”

Danny chuckled, shaking his head.  He sunk his hands a little lower.  “Nah, if I wanted to flirt, I’d come to the club shirtless.“  He paused, nodding in the direction of the various pack members. “To be honest, there’s not a lot of “us” at school.  Why do you think I went to seedy clubs on the weekend all the time?”  Danny smiled, glancing up into Stiles’ eyes.  “I had Jackson as a friend, yeah, but-  Have you ever tried to talk to someone about gay guy problems that wasn’t a gay guy?  The guys on the lacrosse team really don’t get me.  So having someone like you, Isaac, and hell, Scott counts for half, is a big deal for me.”

Their dancing continued, as the slow song finished, and a wild beat overtook the club.  In between the hundreds of club goers, Danny shakes off his serious expression, happy to shake his groove thing.  Stiles tried his best moves, making an utter fool of himself in the process, but laughing it all off based on Danny’s snickers and bright smile. 

After several songs, Danny darted glances between Stiles and the area far off in the distance.  He laughed, shaking his head.  “So, Stiles, are you single?”

Stiles snorted, nodding. “Painfully so.”

Danny smirked.  “So- Nothing is going on between you and your personal trainer?  You know, tall, dark, and gloomy?”

“Huh?”

“Dude has not taken his eyes off of you since we got into this place.  Check out the bar.”  Danny nodded behind Stiles, towards the bar.

Stiles turned around, spotting Derek at the far end of the bar.  Derek’s red eyes glowed, thankfully not standing out from the flashing lights of the club, and the strobes that glimmered overhead.  Arms folded, the Alpha sat stiffly against one of the barstools, sipping some kind of drink with an umbrella in it.  Stiles watched his Alpha for several minutes, surprised that Derek’s eyes never wavered from Stiles’ general position.

“Huh…”. Stiles shrugged it off.  “Well, either he’s worried about you taking me to the bathrooms, or he's just overprotective.  Derek’s like a mentor to us, you could say. Besides, Derek could have any man or woman he wanted.  Dude oozes sex appeal.  Why settle for the pale loudmouth?”

Danny shook his head. “Well, based on the way he’s looking you over, I don’t think he feels the same.  Trust me, Stiles, I know what a jealous man looks like.  Just watch.”  He spun Stiles around, to give the man a perfect line sight of the bar. Leaning forward, Danny pressed his lips against Stiles’, for a quick, chaste’ kiss. 

At the bar, Derek cracked the glass in his hand, where an amber-colored liquid quietly dribbled out from the bottom.  Stiles’ jaw dropped at the reaction.

“Told you.”  Danny winked, breaking up the space between them. “Anyway, I think I’m going to snag Lahey and give him a shot.  Dude’s got a cute butt.  Thanks for the dance, Stilinski, and thanks for a fun night with your friends.  We’re doing this again.  Often.”

“Sounds good!”  Stiles watched Danny break through the crowd, heading off to where Erica, Isaac, and Scott were dancing.  He started to head off to Derek at the bar, stopped in his tracks by a warm body stumping up against him, growling as it grabbed Stiles’ shoulder.

“Wasting time- Wasting…. Time.  Wasting-  Wasting-“ 

Stiles turned to the stranger, immediately recognizing the blonde hair and sharp black shirt. “Jax?”

**_“Wasting time.  Can’t…. Be…. Here…”. “Not perfect…. Not- Not-  Perfect.”_ **

Stiles bent down to Jackson’s level, watching the poor Beta descend into a full-on panic attack. Jackson shook violently, hyperventilating through his nose as control slipped, and his wolfish face drew to the surface.  A golden glow shone from his eyes, accompanied by a low, guttural growl.

Panic set in Stiles’ chest, as people starting gazing at Jackson.

“Dude, come on…. Not here. Breathe!  Stay with me.”  Stiles wrapped his arms around Jackson, guiding him through the crowd, bumping into dozens of dancing couples, before finally reaching the empty booths littered with discarded drinks and food.  He hid Jackson in the booth farthest from the dance floor, fanning Jackson’s sweating face with the nearest menu.  “Come on, stay with me, Jax.  Breathe in, breathe out, you’re okay!  It’s me, Stiles!  Here…. Borrow my shirt.  Take in my scent.  Everyone says it helps them relax.  Go on, suck it in!”  He stripped out of his shirt, stuffing it into Jackson’s face.

Jackson’s wolfish features faded, bit by bit, as he sucked in Stiles’ scent.  The growling ceased, and the young man’s panic evaporated into short bursts of shaking.  Finally unburying himself from Stiles’ shirt, Jackson blinked, shaking off his stupor.  “What…. Happened?”

“Don’t know what caused it, but you just had a meltdown.”  Stiles reached over, wrapping an arm around Jackson’s shoulder.  “You were talking about wasting time? Muttering something about not being perfect?”

“Fu-  Fuck.”  Jackson slammed his fist against the table.  “I knew this would happen.  It always happens when I’m not doing something productive.  I lose control.  Coming to this club was stupid, I told Derek he shouldn’t have forced me!”

“Jax.”  Stiles clutched onto Jackson tighter.  “Come on dude-  Tell me what’s wrong.  What’s actually wrong with you, that you’re not telling anyone else.  You looked absolutely miserable, and you nearly lost control in a public place.”

Pausing, Jackson dropped his head, sniffing at Stiles’ shirt again to calm himself.  He sighed.  “You wouldn’t understand.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dude-  My best friend is a werewolf.  I’m a werewolf.  Just last week, I had to stave off the urge to strip naked and hunt down all the deer in the area.  I am so far beyond understanding anything anymore, but I can sure as hell listen.”

Jackson balled his hand into a fist.  His claws protruded, forcing small cuts to bleed onto the table.  “You wouldn’t understand, because you’re not-“  He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth.  “You’re not adopted.”

The music in the club faded in Stiles’ ears.  At that moment, all he could hear is the rushed heartbeat of his fellow packmate. “You’re adopted?”

“Yeah.”  Jackson opened his eyes, both glowing a solemn golden. “My biological parents were in a bad wreck when I was still in my mother’s body.  Dad died instantly.  Mom? They kept her alive on machines for three days so I could be born.”  He growled. “I didn’t have any living relatives, but the Whittemores took me in as a foster baby.  They adopted me a few months later, legally.”

“Dude, I’m sorry-“

Jackson shook his head. “Don’t be.  I found that all out when I was twelve when I went through my dad’s office.  Well, that fact, and the fact my biological parents left me a fortune.  A literal fortune.  I’m set for life as soon as I turn 18.  I could probably retire if I wanted.”  He turned to meet Stiles’ eyes.  “That’s when my life changed.  When I knew the truth-  Nobody actually liked me for me.”

Stiles rose an eyebrow, searching Jackson’s hurt eyes.  “I’m having a hard time understanding how any of that is a bad thing.  Am I missing something?”

“Don’t you get it?” Jackson yelled, claws digging into the wooden table.  “My dad asking you about me?  Coming to my practice?  All his “bragging” about me?  His “love”? For fuck’s sake, it’s all an act.” His growled, slamming his hands repeatedly on the table.  “All my parents want out of me is my inheritance.  So if I want anyone to love me I-  I have to be better than millions of dollars.  I have to be-  Perfect.”

“Jackson-“  Stiles reached across the table, cupping a hand around Jackson’s.  “I get it.” Stiles smacked Jackson across the back of the head.

“Ow!  S-  Stiles? What was that for?”

“To get your attention.” Stiles scooted away from Jackson, sitting directly across from his packmate.   “Jax, I can’t claim to understand what it means to be adopted. I don’t know how I’d handle that kind of news.  That being said, there’s plenty that I do understand.”  He pointed to the dance floor, where Danny had already snagged Scott, dancing exaggeratedly to a laughing Scott.  “See Scott back there?  Do you know why you’ve ?”

“No.  More importantly, should I care?”

Stiles chuckled, sighing quietly. “Rafe McCall is a hotshot FBI agent, who’s been promoted about twelve million times.  He makes more money than probably my dad, Scott’s mom, and both of your parents combined. Dude lives in a massive mansion has a sports car and is probably on the way to becoming a Senator in the next couple of years.  Of course, all of this happened after Mrs. McCall divorced him.”

“Seriously?”  Jackson glared across the club.  “What?  Did Mrs. McCall not sign a prenup?  Is that why they’re so dirt poor?”

“Not exactly.”  Stiles shook his head.  “Scott’s got a trust fund worth a few million, which he tore up and threw in his father’s face.  On his sixteenth birthday, Scott had a brand-new Mustang GT shipped to his house, which he immediately sent back.  At Christmastime, Scott slams the door in his father’s face every fucking year, even when he’s got a load of presents under his arms.”  He sighed.  “Melissa does the same.  Every gift, present, or a large sum of money that is sent their way is shipped right back.”

“Is McCall mentally ill?” Jackson folded his arms.  “I’ve seen how the McCalls live.  They’re not exactly in a position to be turning all that shit away.”

“Maybe so.”  Stiles leaned back in his seat.  “See, the thing is, Rafe was a drunken bastard that took all his stress out on Scott.  Beat him to near-death on more than one occasion, as young as five.  The last straw was when a broken beer bottle got stabbed in Scott’s chest and tore into his lung.  Ever wonder why Scott’s asthma was so bad before the bite?  Well…. That’s why.  All his medical problems and self-esteem issues are all, honestly, daddy-issues.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  Jackson folded his arms.  He huffed, gripping onto Stiles’ shirt.  “Other than giving me ammo about McCall.”

Stiles reached out, cupping Jackson’s chin again.  “To show you that sometimes…. No amount of money can buy love.”

Jackson opened his mouth to argue, only to pause as the words failed to form on his lips. 

“Jackson, did you ever think about your adoptive parents?  Why they took you in?  Because I’m pretty damn sure that no adoption agency or government entity is going to dangle a multi-million dollar trust fund as advertising.  Is there any way in hell they would have known beforehand?  If they didn’t, then your parents went plenty out of their way to take you in, because they wanted someone to love.”

Jackson’s eyes fell.

Stiles shook his head, taking away his hand.  “Jax, when your dad came and talked to me about looking after you, he said that you were his only son.  You were everything that he and Mrs. Whittemore ever wanted.  A family.  Something they couldn’t have on their own.”  He laughed.  “Mr. Whittemore doesn’t want you to be perfect.  He wants you to be happy, and a part of their lives.  If they really wanted to manipulate you, I’m sure there’s a million other ways to do it.”  He gestured to Jackson’s shirt, and the name brand tag sticking out from the back. “They say they spoiled you rotten because you were their dream come true.  Which, if the Porsche, and the clothes, and the everything fabulous you own, is obviously true.  The real question is-  If all they wanted out of you was your money, why didn’t they just wait and make you buy all that shit yourself?  You’re not a cheap kid, Jax.”  Stiles threw up his hands, resting them on the back of his head.  “For that matter, your dad’s a lawyer!  I’m pretty damn sure if anyone could find a way to get at your money before it came into your hands, it’d be him!  If Mr. Whittmeore was the greedy bastard you think he is, why hasn’t he already tried to take it?  Or hell, wouldn’t he have used this werewolf blackmail against you and the Pack as perfect leverage to pry it out of your hands?  Because I’m pretty damn sure that’s what I do if I wanted something out of you!”

The silence between the table spoke far louder than any of the music playing in the background. Jackson kept still, drawing Stiles’ shirt close to his chest.  A tear fell against the table, followed by dozens more.

Stiles smiled, watching Jackson’s emotions unfurl in front of him.  He chose to give the Beta some space.  “Listen, I’m going to go grab us some drinks.  Sniff my shirt some more, relax, and take it all in.  We’ll talk more in a second.”

Hopping up from the table, Stiles strode across the dance floor, through the mass of people, and walked up to the nearest bartender he could find.  “Two strawberry sunrises, no ice.  Oh, and some of those cute little umbrellas!”

A warm hand cupped Stiles’ ass, squeezing the cheeks.  Stiles jumped, glancing to the right, where an older gentleman stood with a curvy smile. “Well good evening, cutie.  Can I buy those drinks for you?  Or, maybe something harder?”

“Oh-“  Stiles gently grabbed the man’s hand and removed it from his body.  “Oh, no thank you.  I appreciate it, though.”

“Saw you dancing on the floor earlier with the Hawaiian kid.  Ready for round two after those drinks?  I can show you some fancy moves.”  Again, the stranger planted his hands on Stiles, massaging the Beta’s shoulders.

Stiles slapped the man’s hands away.  “Actually, I’m taking a break right now.  Thanks, though.”

“Come on, sweetheart-“ The stranger chuckled, toying with his douchy beard.  “You don’t want to play with those boys.  Come have a real man tonight.  I can show you things you’ve only dreamed about.”

“Sorry, but-  No.  Today’s just a friend’s night out.  Not really looking for that kind of thing.”  The bartender handed Stiles his two drinks, shooting the stranger a dirty look. Stiles forked some cash over and turned to leave.

The stranger grabbed Stiles’ arm, yanking him back to the bar.  “Come on, sweetie.  Don’t be such a tease.  I know you’re not supposed to be in here just yet...  What are you, a Sophomore?  Junior?” He licked his lips.  “You’re a poor little kitten out exploring this big bad world.  Let me buy you a couple of drinks, and let’s get to know each other a little more.  No need to be scared, I’m-  Gentle.”

“Hell no!”  Stiles growled, shoving the man away.  “What kind of a guy do you think I am?  I don’t even know you, and you’re twice my age! You know I’m underage, and you’re still trying to get in my pants?”

“Is that really so bad? You’re such a sweet little thing. I could teach you plenty.”  “You know what they say…. With age comes experience.”

“-and probably twenty STD and a pair of rotten, moldy nads.”  Stiles threw his drinks in the man’s face, covering him in the sugary-sweet concoction.  The crowd around them laughed, in a wide array of over-reactions.  Stiles ignored them, setting the glasses back on the bar and turning to leave.  “Get away from me, sicko!”

Stiles felt a hand clasp around his neck, choking him as he was pulled backward.  “Listen here, you little slut…  I’m not going to sit here and be insulted by a mouthy little bitch that doesn’t know his fucking place.“

Stiles met the man’s dark eyes, gasping for air.  At his side, Stiles unfurled a fist, letting his claws erupt.  “Let go of me, asshole, or I’m going to-“

“This guy bothering you?”

A warm hand wrapped around Stiles’ waist, pulling him backward.  Another hand seamlessly removed the creeper’s hand from Stiles’ neck. Pressing against a stranger’s chest, Stiles felt a comfortable calm that accompanied the scent of sweet herbs.

Derek stood several feet and about a hundred pounds of muscle over the stranger, eyes shooting daggers into the other man’s gaze.  He didn’t need to open his mouth.  The looming threat in Derek’s five words vacated the bar all around them, with all of the creepy guy’s bravado vanishing in an instant.

Backing down immediately, the stranger threw up both hands.  “Hey man…  I don’t want any shit.  Didn’t know he was yours!”

Derek flashed a white smile, with little friendly demeanor behind it.  “Then fuck off.”

Turning around, creepy due scoffed.  A few steps away from Derek, the man rolled his eyes.  “Well, excuse me for not knowing he was taken.  The slut was dancing and kissing another guy.  Might want to get your bitch under control.”

As Stiles blinked, gasps echoed all around the bar.  At that moment, Derek grabbed the man by the neck, yanking the stranger off his feet. The man’s legs swung limply in the air, too frightened to move. 

“His name…  Is Stiles.”  Derek gripped the man’s neck tighter.

A garbled string of apologies attempted to form in the stranger’s foaming mouth, as he struggled for breath.

“Stiles was having fun with his friends.  Just because he doesn’t want anything to do with you does not make him a bitch. You’ll treat him with the respect he deserves, or you and I are going to have problems.  Do you want the two of us to have problems?”  Derek dropped the man, who proceeded to slam his head against a barstool, collapsing against the floor. 

Screaming, the creeper scrambled to his feet, running across the club, and out the door.

Derek cracked his knuckles, glancing around the nearby patrons.  “Show’s over.”  He strode up to Stiles, stopping just shy of the Beta.  He sighed, head dropping.  “Listen, I’m sorry.  I know you can take care of yourself, but I’ve been there before and-  I smelt how uncomfortable you were.  Then he called you a bitch, and-“  Derek growled.  “That’s a slur for our kind.  I know he didn’t mean it in that context, but I couldn’t help it.  Nobody deserves to be spoken to like that.  Nobody, and I-“  He paused.  “I’m sorry if I stepped over the line, but-“

“Thank you, Derek.”

 

++++++

Watching Stiles dance with Danny set a quiet blaze in Derek’s stomach.  Then again, seeing any of his pack interacting with “outsiders” would have set that reaction off.  “Not Pack” ran over and over in his head, driving him insane.  Though, he could control it.  Danny was a friend of the pack – an ally.  He smelt of Jackson and would be a good influence on Isaac. Stiles…. Seemed to like him. Hell, he would make for an amazing bite, if that is where fate decided to take them.

The creeper, however, touching HIS pack?  That kind of shit was not going to stand.  He took deep breaths, attempting to control his boiling blood.  Yet-  He’d gone and stepped into Stiles’ business.  When it’d be pretty damn clear Stiles was handling the situation just fine.

“Thank you, Derek.”

Derek jolted his head upright.  “What?”

“Thank you.”  Stiles smiled, clearly relieved as his tense shoulders dropped.  He sighed, shaking his head.  “I didn’t know how to react to any of that.  I mean-  I knew I could punch him or some shit, but I just…  I didn’t-”  He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I’m glad to know you’ve got my back.  I’ve never been pretty enough for anyone to want something like that out of me, so this is all new to me.”

Derek felt a powerful punch against his gut.  He guided Stiles through the bar, back to the far end.  “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“Huh?”

Derek’s eyes flashed red. “Don’t say you were never pretty.”

Stiles hopped up on the nearest barstool, chuckling.  “Dude, Derek, you don’t have to lay on the fake compliments.  I was a pasty, skinny nobody before the bite, with ADHD, anxiety, depression, and probably some kind of undiagnosed mental issue.  I had no muscle tone and not even enough coordination for the third string on the lacrosse team.  Nobody, and I mean, nobody would want any of this.”

“I'm serious,”  Derek growled, angry-  Angry?  What created this anger?  Was it for his right hand’s lack of confidence?  Or, was it out of concern for Stiles.  He shook the fire in his stomach off.  “Sure, you were a little underweight, and didn’t have much skill in sports, but looks and popularity aren’t everything, Stiles.”  He sat next to Stiles, maintaining direct eye contact.  “Out of everyone in this town, you were the one I wanted most for my pack.  You were smart enough to discover werewolves existed, without any outside help.  You were loyal enough to stand by Scott, even when he became dangerous enough to possibly kill you.  More importantly, you smashed a baseball bat into my Uncle’s face. You faced off against a fully-shifted Alpha werewolf and lived to tell the tale.  Of course, we can’t also forget the fact you had me arrested and tried to frame me for murder when you thought I was a threat.”

“I’m never going to live that down, aren’t I?”  A quiet blush crossed Stiles’ face.

“Nope.”  Derek felt a smile cross his face.  “What I’m saying, Stiles…  Is that you’re a great catch.  Don’t drag yourself down.  Anyone here would be lucky to have a guy like you, werewolf Stiles or human Stiles, doesn’t matter which.”

Stiles sat quietly, before lifting his head up and laughing.  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.  Like, literally, you just don’t even know how much that means to me.”

“You deserve it. Actually, you deserve better.” Derek rose a finger, catching the attention of the bartender.  “We’ll each take a virgin drink.  Something with pineapple and mango?”

Stiles shot up, immediately. “Oh, shit, hold up, drinks!  I need to grab Jackso-“  He turned around, glancing at the back of the bar.  His shoulders fell, groaning. “He’s gone.”

Derek shut his eyes, trying to make out the smell of his Beta.  He shook his head.  “I can’t smell him in the room.  He must have left.”

“Fuck.”  Stiles sat back down, slamming his head repeatedly against the bar.  “I honestly thought we were making a connection.  That maybe I’d gotten through to him.  Fuck…. Fuck…. Fuck…”

“You’re making an effort. That’s all that matters.”  Derek reached over, patting Stiles on the back. “Knowing how you’ve bonded with everyone else, I know you can do it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”  Stiles banged his head one last time against the bar.  “So frustrating.”

A pair of drinks were sat in front of Derek and Stiles.  Derek slid one to Stiles, taking one for himself.  “This is your favorite flavor, right?”

“Sure is.”  Stiles rose the fruity drink in the air, clinking their glasses together.  “Thanks, Derek.  Here’s to my Alpha!”

“-and to my Beta.”

While they shared drinks, Derek spotted Stiles swaying to the groove of a new song that popped up behind them.  His eyes shot wide open, turning to Derek.  “Want to dance?”

“Huh?”

Stiles took Derek by the hand, grinning from ear to ear, pulling Derek off the bar and to the sea of people.  “Come on, I’ve seen you sulking in a corner all night!  Come dance with me and have some fun, this is my favorite song, ever!”

“I-“  Derek didn’t have much time to argue, as Stiles took them to the square center of the dance floor, bobbing up and down in the beat of the music.  While he wasn’t one to be known for his club dancing (Stiles either, for that matter), he tried to mimic Stiles’ moves, smiling at Stiles’ laughter, and the Beta’s attempt at singing an old 90’s beat. 

The two shared several songs together, dancing, grinding, and swaying to the beat of the music, with little more than an inch between their bodies.  At times, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, to protect him from a few wandering eyes around them.

Everything changed as a slow song took over, with a soft, sweet melody.  All the dancers paired off in twos, closing the already tiny gap between their bodies. 

Stiles and Derek shared a quick gaze.  Stiles’ golden eyes burning, and Derek’s red eyes smoldering.

Derek planted his right hand around Stiles’ waist and his left hand around Stiles’ back and on his shoulder.  Stiles did the same, and soon Alpha and Beta were swaying in gentle sways across the dance floor.  Stiles rested his head against Derek’s chest.  Derek rested his head on Stiles’.  Both smiled.

Derek rarely thought about his life before the fire, back when life was right, and he felt happy. Of course, Stiles’ damned rainy scent always seemed to dredge something up to the surface. 

Under the dazzling lights of the Jungle’s light show, the slow music, and the sweaty palms that wrapped around Stiles, he thought back to the Junior High dance, when he was a cocky 14-year-old captain of the Junior High basketball team.  Of that first time, he and Paige shared their first dance. Of her quick wit, mouthy sarcasm, and overwhelming talent in everything she took a passion in.  The smell of the strawberry shampoo she always washed her hair in, and the subtle honey-scented perfume she wore out of concern for Derek’s sensitive nose.  Her endless questions about werewolves, after she learned the truth of the Hale family, through her own deductions and intuition.  The soft lips he’d kissed that night, behind the gymnasium. 

That feeling of calm infatuation, bordering just shy of love… 

Derek recalled his father’s sex talk that happened not too long afterward and the awkward mumblings about werewolf anatomy that humans might not be “used” to.  He thought back to Grandpa Hale’s talk about mating.

“Humans fall in and out of love, Derek.  For our kind, it’s more than that.  We seek out a mate, someone we trust and respect, of equal power, that we’ll spend our entire lives with, to grow and make our pack stronger.  Our wolves will guide us to that perfect match, Derek. Listen to them when they howl, pup. Our human hearts are fickle, but our inner beasts…  They know when it’s real.”

Derek’s heart raced. Another heartbeat, beside Boyd’s, began to beat in his chest.  Another Alpha’s bond that ran just as quickly as his own heart did.  There was no doubting it was Stiles.  He glanced up, brought out of his trance of happy memories. Meeting Stiles’ honey-brown eyes, if only for a flash, he saw Paige. 

The pale skin, soft brown hair, her long limbs, and-  Her laugh.

“Oh my God, Derek, look over there.  I think Scott’s trying to dance with Isaac, and they’re both trying to lead!”  Stiles laughed, warm, inviting, and full of joy. He pointed across the dance floor, where Scott and Isaac were stepping on each other’s feet, laughing and carrying on, but never once letting up their grips on each other’s waist.  Not that Derek paid his other Betas much attention at the moment.  Derek’s eyes were soaking in Stiles’ happy smile, and his ears took in the sounds of his warm laugh.

A genuine smile crossed Derek’s lips.  As it did, an overwhelming roar echoed in Derek’s chest, unheard to anyone but himself. A howl from Derek’s wolf, that shook him to his very core.

Derek hitched his breath, holding onto Stiles all that more closely.  He gulped. 

“My mate.”  Derek thought, while his wolf continued to howl deep within his chest.

 

++++++

 

Standing in front of the palatial Whittemore Estate, Jackson’s hand hovered over the door, in the same position it’d been since he’d ran from the Jungle, clutching onto Stiles’ scent for the courage to stand there.  He took a deep breath, and with one last lungful of rainy scent, knocked on the front door.

Several minutes passed before the door swung open, with Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore standing in their nightclothes.

“Hey mom…. Hey dad…” Jackson paused.  “I’m home.  If you’ll…. Have me?”

 Mr. Whittemore blinked, mouth gaping as he saw the sight before him.  “J- Jackson?  Oh, son, you’re home!  I’ve missed you so much!”  He rushed forward, wrapping arms around Jackson.

Mrs. Whittmore teared up, quickly rushing to her son’s side.  “Oh, sweetheart!  I’m so happy you’re home!”

Jackson gulped, fighting back the tears.  He eventually glanced up, seeing the genuine joy on their faces.  He smelt the happiness around him and heard the truth from the beat of their hearts.  Tears welled in his eyes.

 


	8. One for the Road

Dawn peeked through the curtains at the Motel Glen Capri, highlighting the dust and murk that floated in the air.  Little luggage occupied the space, save for a portable electric kettle whose whistle pierced the serene silence of the area.

Kali switched off the kettle, pouring its boiling contents into a dainty white cup filled with pitch-black leaves.  She smiled, crossing the threshold of the motel room, and handing the cup to Deucalion, sat in the middle of the room on a dusty old high-armed chair.  The aroma of tea cut through the musky scent of decaying walls.

“Thank you, Kali.”  Deucalion smiled, setting his tea aside to cool.  He turned to the young men bowed before him, a pair of identical twins he’d taken as his own from a Pack that had failed one of his tests.  Through the glow of his Alpha eyes, he could just barely make out their strong, muscular body tones, contoured with a stone-cold face and sharp, jutted features.  He smirked, glaring at them through their buzzed blonde hair, sending shivers down their spines.  “Today is the day where you have a chance to prove yourselves to me.  Succeed, and you can call yourselves members of our Pack.  Fail, and- Well, you’re both well aware there are no second chances in my Pack.”

The duo nodded, shivering under Duke’s heated gaze.

Deucalion took his tea, blowing the steam away from the cup.  “Your target is Alpha Derek Hale, whose territory begins just south of here.  He should be arriving at his Emissary’s office in the next half hour, an animal clinic of all things.  We’ve witnessed him taking regular classes there, and the Emissary closes during this time, so you should be free of interruptions, but you are free to kill any bystanders.” 

Aiden, the taller and more muscular of the two, rose his head.  “Father, what would you have us do?  Which test would you have us give this Alpha?”

Deucalion pondered quietly for a moment.  “Antagonize him into using all of his power, and crush him into submission.  Do not allow him to escape.”  He sipped the murky contents of his tea, savoring the bitter flavor.  “Bring him to the edge of death.  His instincts will force him into howling for his pack to save him.  Do not kill him until his Betas arrive, and make sure they see him in that state.  There is one among their ranks that I wish to see react to their Alpha’s dying breaths.”

Ethan, the soft-spoken of the two, gulped quietly.  “What should we do with them after we’re done testing them?”

“Wouldn’t that be obvious, Ethan?”  Deucalion shook his head, disappointed in Ethan’s inability to shed his human half.  “Assuming you succeed, kill them and take their powers as you wish.  Settle your differences amicably, there’s quite a few of them to take down, but you should have plenty of a reward waiting for you.”  Deucalion smirked, waving them off.  “Go on, then.  Do not fail me.”

“Yes, father.”  Aiden and Ethan said in unison, rising from their position and taking their leave from the motel.  The sound of a motorcycle revving echoed in the room moments later, as the two jetted off to their target.

As Kali made herself comfortable on a bed, Deucalion watched his Left Hand grumble quietly in the corner.  Ennis, his most trusted member of the Alpha Pack, seven feet of muscle and ex-military attitude.

“You’re fuming, Ennis,” Deucalion muttered.

“Alpha, may I speak?”  Ennis grumbled.

“You may, Ennis.”

“What’s so special about this Beta kid?”  Ennis growled, pacing up and down the room.  “We don’t waste our time with Betas.  The only reason we ever bother with them is to kill them for our own gain.  Yet here we are, the leaders of the Alpha pack, wasting time and resources on a kid that can’t even shift when fighting!”  Ennis’ eyes flashed a crimson hue. “Even this Alpha isn’t even part of a bloodline we’d care about.  The Hales are bleeding heart pack of wolves that let humans amongst their ranks.”

A low chuckle left Deucalion’s mouth.  “I have no interest in this Alpha’s powers.  I reached the height of my ability long ago, killing Alphas does nothing for me anymore.”  He smirked, watching as the red glow of his eyes faded, and the darkness took over once more.  “The Beta’s potential and what it means for this pack is all I truly care for.”

“What kind of potential does this timid, mouthy, Beta have for you, the Grand High Alpha?”

Removing the bandages around his eyes, Deucalion blinked, revealing his grey, lifeless eyes.  He touched them, hand tracing among the scarred tissue all around them.  “I’ve grown tired searching for a True Alpha’s eyes to replace these useless ones.  There are so few of them in this world that I might die before we find one.  I refuse to allow myself to die in my current state before I’ve done all that needs to be done.  I may be aging, Ennis, but I’m far from the age of retirement.”

A vision of a pale woman, with honey-colored hair down to her back and a prominent mole on her cheek, flashed into Deucalion’s mind.  Of her claws that gouged into his eyes.  Of the sudden shift in the golden hue of her eyes to the fiery red that no Alpha since had been able to re-create in Deucalion’s presence in over a decade.  The eyes of the first True Alpha the world had seen in centuries.  The last image he’d seen with his human eyes, before being blinded.

Of course, the name “Mieczyslaw” and “Stilinksi” were rooted in legend themselves.  The “Glorious Swords” of legend, stepping back into history immemorial.  Legends passed down in Deucalion’s family since their inception.

Duke beamed. “With the ingredients I have at my disposal, I’d rather create a pair instead.”

 

+++++

 

As with most Monday mornings, Stiles woke up hours before the rest of the Pack, who’d eventually waddle out of the rooms with about five minutes to spare.  He fiddled in the kitchen for his breakfast and morning, coffee, savoring the fresh scents that traveled to his sensitive nose.

“Almost there.  Just a couple more seconds and they’ll be perfect…”  Stiles hummed quietly, watching the golden hue of eggs slowly firm into a jiggling mass of lighter-than-air deliciousness.  He adjusted the blindfold over his eyes, making sure there was no way he could cheat at his latest test.

A warm chuckle from behind forced Stiles to smile while he seasoned the eggs with a flourish of spices and vegetables.

“Scent training with our breakfast again?”  Derek asked, stepping beside Stiles to inspect his handiwork.  He smiled, sniffing the air with a contentedness about him.  “Can’t say I can argue with the results, though it’s a little less…  Intense..”

Stiles rolled his eyes, switching off the cooktop and removing his blindfold.  “Laugh it up, Derek, but this is a hell of a lot more fun than that bullshit way your parents trained you.  I’m sorry, but being blindfolded in a forest littered with gunpowder mines is fucking insane.”  He plated the eggs into a container, waving it around his Alpha’s face.  “Besides, if you succeed, you get something awesome to east.  Fail?  You’ve got a group of grumpy, hungry Betas at 8 in the morning, ready to eat your face off.”

“I retract my comment about the intensity.”  Derek chuckled, glancing around the kitchen, and pouting at the empty coffee machine.  “Stiles, where’s the-“

Stiles pointed to the kitchen’s island, cutting Derek off mid-sentence. “I got your coffee in your big-ass thermos.  Hopefully, it can get you through your boring meeting with Deaton.  Black as your soul, but with just a hint of chocolate creamer to make your morning bearable, and because honestly, black coffee is way too boring and hipster.”

Derek’s pout melted, snatching up a thermos the size of his forearm.  “Thank you.  This almost makes up for the next ten hours of lecture I have to bear.”

“Hey, now you can feel our pain with 8 hours of lectures, and all the bullshit that high school has to offer.”  Stiles patted Derek on the back, flittering around the kitchen as he filled up each of the Betas’ breakfast containers with eggs.  “For the sake of all our suffering, I’ll make something good tonight for dinner.  How’s Italian sound?  I watched a cooking show last night and have been really wanting to try out some homemade pasta from scratch.  Worst case of me fucking up the pasta is we’ve still got ingredients for Mama Stilinksi’ s famous pizza.”

“Sounds wonderful to me.  It’ll give me something to look forward to in between Deaton’s ramblings.”

Stiles paused for a moment, washing out his skillet, and starting up the prep for everyone’s lunch.   “What do you even do there all day long?”

Derek shrugged, rummaging through the multiple textbooks piled up on the kitchen counter.  “A little of everything.”  “Leadership strategies, tactical warfare, protection against common threats native to our area, basic anatomy and healing structure of bitten wolves, and how to govern and expand a pack.  We Skype into other Alphas giving lectures, and go through potential deals we could make with other local territories.  Oh, and a little accounting and tax, to make sure my financial planners don’t take me for a ride.”

“That’s just cruel,” Stiles gasped, covering his mouth in horror.  “Anything but accounting and tax!”

“You know it.”  Derek cocked a snide smile.  “Well, I better get going.”

“Oh!  Wait a minute.”  Stiles rushed to the oven, pulling out a tray of several creations.  He hurriedly sealed them into plastic baggies and shoving them into Derek’s hands.  “I know you’re not a breakfast person, but you need something a little more than just coffee in your stomach.  If you don’t want it, share with Deaton.  Still, I know you love Canadian bacon, and you love my mom’s English muffin recipe, so…  You know.  I thought you deserved something nice.”

Derek glanced through the plastic container, drooling at the sight of eggs benedict, beautiful and warm in his hands.  A warm smile crossed his face.  “Thank you, Stiles.”  He pocketed the contents in his jacket, taking a step towards Stiles.  “Thank you for everything.”

“No prob, Bob,”  Stiles said, laughing awkwardly.  The space between them was little more than there’d been on the dance floor a week earlier.  There was an oppressive, potent heat that muddled the air around them.  Aware of the heartbeats between them, each thud sent a new flow of blood to every extremity in his body.  Too much, all of it. 

Alpha and Beta inched closer.  Both gulped in unison.  A deep blush crossed their face.

Neither of them had talked about the bit “it” in the room.

The “it” being the hours they’d spent on the dance floor together.  Derek’s compliments at the bar.  Stiles’ aggressive moves on the dance floor.  The slow dance, where their eyes had stuck to each other for hours on end.  A night they’d done everything but kiss.

No, they’d both done the adult thing and shoved that night far back in the closet, right next to each of their overwhelming amounts of emotional baggage.  Because it was a lot simpler than opening up that particular bag of crazy.

Derek was the first to break contact.  The Alpha turned away, unable to look Stiles in the eye.    “Screw you cooking food tonight.”  He awkwardly fumbled with his books and the thermos, dropping several textbooks and papers multiple times before he finally got his shit together.  “Meet me at Deaton’s when you get off school.  I need to have a long talk with you, and Deaton’s the best person to explain 90% of it.” 

“Alright?”  Stiles took a step backward.  Derek seemed perturbed.

Yet, the Alpha took a deep breath, turning back to face his Beta.  Derek’s awkward smile betrayed the seriousness of his tone.  “When we’re done with that-  How about you let me treat you to a nice dinner at Monty’s?  So we can talk about-  Us?  Let the Betas scavenge for themselves.”

Stiles’ heart fluttered, his frown quickly replaced by a wide smile.  “I’d like that.  A lot.”

“Good.”  Derek stood in quiet silence, before finally stepping next to Stiles and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.  He backed away, smirking.  “I’ll see you then, Stiles.  I-  I hope you have a good day, alright?”

“I will!”  Stiles felt his forehead blaze from the aftermath.  He waved wildly as Derek made his way out of the front door.  “Be safe!”

As the door shut behind Derek, Stiles leaned against the kitchen’s wall for support.  His heart raced.

_“Am imagining this?  Does he like me?  Do I like him?”_

Stiles paced around the kitchen, absentmindedly working his hands into a frenzy on the Betas’ lunch.  His eyes glowed in response to the rapid beating of his heart.

_“Is this a thing?  Do I think it’s a thing?  I mean, when he looks at me, I swear his eyes glow, and my stomach gets all tingly, but-  Does he feel the same way?”_

Stiles’ eyes extinguished themselves.

_“No-  Knowing Derek, he’s all business.  This is going to be those “It’s not you, it’s me” bullshit moments, and I’m going to come home and eat three tubs of ice cream and watch shitty movies all night._

Stiles’ claws extended, shattering a jar of pickles, which he ignored completely, dumping shards of glass onto everyone’s lunches.

_“Then why’d he kiss me?  Why’d he dance with me?  Why does he…  Look at me like that?”_

Stiles’ claws retracted, accompanied by a full pout.

_“He’s been with women, though.  Sexy, beautiful women.  With boobs, and other anatomical advantages that he probably enjoyed way more than what I’m packing.”_

Fangs protruded from Stiles’ mouth, alongside a shy grin.

_“Derek said werewolves don’t have preferred sexuality, though.  They fall for who they like and mate for life.  So even if he’s been with women, that doesn’t matter, does it?  I mean, he’s cock neutral, right?”_

Stiles’ fangs retracted.  He shook his head, accidentally pouring horseradish onto everyone’s lunch instead of mayonnaise.  He spread the contents with a spatula, missing the butter knives by a mile.

_“What am I saying?  I don’t have time for this.  I should be worried about serious stuff.  Like-  Like…“_

Stiles dropped the spatula in his hands, where it fell to the floor with a loud clang.  At that moment, a quiet clarity overtook Stiles.

_“What…  What should I be worried about?”_

For the first time in ages, Stiles wasn’t behind on his homework or failing any classes.  The days of caring for his father until 4 in the morning were over, and the D- homework, and tests were a thing of the past.  Hell, he’d gone up to a solid B+ in most classes, with a couple of A’s here and there.

Scott didn’t need Stiles to keep him out of the latest terror of the week, and the Argents had been staying clear of Scott since the breakup with Allison.  No more playing lover-boy messenger service.  Hell, the Hunters seemed genuinely pleased that the Pack held a wide berth from most things human.

Noah-  Okay, so Noah was probably living in a pigsty, but that hadn’t been Stiles’ problem in a while.  Hell, knowing his father, the man was likely in heavy, eating fast food three times a day, and not being continuously nagged about his hygiene.  Even then, Stiles knew that Melissa would check in on the man from time to time.  The Perks of having a ruthless nurse for a next door neighbor.

What was there left to worry about?

Isaac seemed to be doing well, with all his playful flirting with Scott since the night at the Jungle.  He’d even joined the school’s LGBT club with Stiles, and come “out” as much as he could without proclaiming it from the rooftops.

Boyd was up to at least 5 or 6 words a sentence with his conversation skills.

Erica’s video was down to just one or two sites, with Danny blackmailing the fuck out of them to have them taken down.  She wouldn’t be a threat to herself or others for much longer.

Though Jackson hadn’t said a word to any of them, it was no big secret that he stayed the night with his parents a couple of nights each week, or that he attended the weekly Whittemore family dinner.

“Hey bro, you doing okay?”

Stiles shrieked, swinging his arm at Scott out of shock.  Scott ducked the attack at the last second.  After catching his breath, Stiles shook off the terror.  “What?  Y-  Yeah, yeah,  I’m okay, Scotty!”

“Sure about that?  You look a little stressed out.”  Scott rose an eyebrow.

“What makes you say that?”

“Dude, you’re microwaving our lunch.”  Scott pointed to the microwave, where a pile of bread, meat, lettuce, glass, and inappropriate condiments slowly began to melt into a gooey mess.  The very sight of it sent a wave of nausea through Stiles’ stomach at the monstrosity he’d created.

“Motherfu-“  Stiles slammed the stop button, groaning quietly to himself as the cleanup that would entail.  He took a deep breath, relaxing as Scott’s hand clasped against his shoulder.  “Alright, so maybe I’ve got a couple of things on my mind.” 

Scott chuckled, guiding Stiles out of the kitchen and onto the nearest couch.  He grasped Stiles’ knee, offering a quiet smile.  “You know-  you can talk to me about stuff too.  This doesn’t have to be a one-way relationship with me and the rest of the pack.  You fix everyone else’s problems, but you never tell us about your problems.  That’s bullshit on multiple levels.  “So come on, man.  What’s going on in your head?”

“It’s-“  Stiles’ scrambled brain tried to process everything that had happened in the last weeks.  Of the people he’d met, of the way his life had been going, and of how he felt.  The lattermost being the biggest point of contention.  “-I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling.”

Scott cocked his head.  “What do you mean?  Like, are you stressed out or something?  Are you having a hard time with homework again?”

 _“No.  No, I’m not.”_ Realization struck.  Stiles laughed, shaking his head.  “Am I supposed to be happy?  Is this what happy feels like?” 

Scott’s mouth slowly fell open.  “Dude.  That is like the saddest question you could ask someone.”

Letting out a deep breath, Stiles leaned back on the couch, using Scott’s shoulders for support.  “After mom died from her accident, I-  I sort of forgot what this felt like.”  He clutched his chest, surprised at the lack of pressure and stress balled up within.  “I had to take care of Dad.  Every day.  Because he couldn’t take care of himself, and he couldn’t afford to get the right kind of help to make himself any better.  Nobody ever said thank you, and I always just assumed I’d come home one day and find him…”  Stiles didn’t finish the sentence.  That fact was still a genuine possibility.

“Mom’s keeping an eye on him and takes him food every now and then.  You don’t have to worry about that anymore.  Besides, it’s not your damn job!”  Scott yelled, pulling Stiles closer. 

“Then, after all this werewolf shit started, and you broke up with Allison and started going feral, I thought I was going to lose you, too.”

Scott dropped his head.  “I’m-  I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.  You didn’t fall down a hole like my dad did.  You came back.”  Stiles shook his head, chuckling to himself.  He threw his arms around Scott, hugging the hell out of him.  “Hell, because of you, I got to become a part of this Pack.  I got to make friends with Isaac and Erica, have a daily standing game of uber-hard chess with Boyd, and have some kind of love/hate bullshit going on with Jackson.  You and I live together, and we’re all like a big, happy, dysfunctional werewolf family, and-” 

 _“-and I got to know the real Derek.  Stupid, snarky, sarcastic, scruffy, sexy Derek.”_ Stiles thought to himself, with a sly grin.  He wasn’t quite ready to vocalize that fact to Scott.  Nor was he really to give Scott any kind of mental image.  “-and I have time to think about myself.  I feel like I have a future I want to live long enough to see now.  Like…  Like I know everything’s going to be okay.”

Scott slammed his hand on Stiles' shoulder, beaming from ear to ear.  “Dude.  I think we all feel that way.  None of this started out as a good thing, but I feel like…  Things are better.  Easier.”

“Yeah.”  Stiles took a deep breath, collecting himself.  He turned to Scott, ruffling his friend’s hair.  “You guys are on your own for lunch.  I’ve got a Frankenlunch to clean up in the microwave.”

“Duuuude, the cafeteria sucks!“  Scott whined.

Stiles rolled his eyes, flicking Scott on the back of the head as he made his way to the kitchen.  On the way, he stopped, spotting one of Derek’s books under the dining room table.  “Oh, holy shit.  Derek dropped one of his books.  He’ll need this for Deaton’s lecture.”

“Want me to run it there?”  Scott asked.

Grinning, Stiles grabbed his backpack in one hand and scooped up Derek’s book with the other.  “Don’t worry, I’ll run by Deaton’s office and drop it off to him.  While I work hard serving our dear Alpha, you don’t mind cleaning up the kitchen for me, right?  Thanks, you’re a real bro!”

Stiles ran out the door, ignoring Scott’s profane use of language.


	9. One for the Fallen

Derek allowed himself the luxury of taking the long way to Deaton’s office.  He allowed himself to enjoy the delicious warmth of Stiles’ breakfast, and enjoyed the primal howling of his inner wolf, rejoicing at the offering he’d received from his mate.  The smile on his face widened with each bite.

_“This is the real thing.”_

While licking his lips, Derek couldn’t help but wag his metaphorical tail.  His Right Hand, the snarky, kind, wise, mouthy partner in the Pack….  The one who’d bonded them all together, and made the pack into a family, Derek’s new family…  This was his mate.  An equal in everything, save for combat, but…  They’d work on it.  They had plenty of time.

_“We’re all going to keep moving forward.  All of us.”_

After losing Laura and killing Peter, Derek didn’t know if he’d be able to make it in this world.  Even after biting Jackson, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica…  None of them really trusted one and other.  They weren’t a family, they were a unit of werewolves each trying to get someone out of life. 

Only when Stiles and Scott joined the group and when Stiles bound all the idiots together did Derek finally feel like he had before the fire-  Like his family was alive again.

A broad smile crossed Derek’s face.

Pulling up to Deaton’s office, Derek let out a gentle sigh, crumbling the empty baggie back into the pocket of his jacket.  He gathered his belongings, hopping out of his car, and making his way into Deaton’s office. 

“Deaton?”  Derek yelled, noting that the “Open” sign was still flipped on the front door.  As he entered, Derek noticed the front office was littered with broken shards of wood.  An overturned chair was stuck on the side of the wall, while the decimated remains of another littered the reception area.

Derek dropped his books, hopping over the reception desk, through the kennel of whimpering animals, and rushing into the operating theatre.  “Deaton, where are you?!”  He yelled, glancing around the wreckage of Deaton’s animal practice.

Ice ran through his veins, as he saw Deaton’s unconscious body, laid out on the wall opposite the exit.

“Deaton!”  Derek rushed to his emissary’s side, flipping the unconscious man over.  A colossal bruise took up most of Deaton’s face, with a trickle of blood dribbling down his forehead.  The man’s heart and lungs were functional, at least.  Derek felt powerful magic rippling over Deaton’s body, some kind of emergency barrier, healing the multiple nicks and scrapes crossing his body.

**“You know if there hadn’t been two of us, and if we hadn’t been trained on how to deal with magic, your Emissary might have actually been more of a threat than your entire pack combined!”**

“Who’s there?”  Derek spun around, claws unsheathed, fangs drawn, and body entirely shifted.

Stepping out from the shadows, a pair of twins appeared before Derek.  One with a smug, cocky smile, and the other with his face hidden, clearly an unwilling participant in the matter.  By their smell, both were werewolves, and by the overwhelming aura, clearly, both were Alphas.

“What have you done?”  Derek growled, standing over Deaton in a defensive stance.

The smug one grinned, clapping his hands together.  “Sorry, Alpha Hale, Deaton’s a little under the weather.  Didn’t want him interrupting the three of us, like pesky Emissaries like to do, so…  We got the drop on him.  Man, he saw through our sneak attack and everything!  Luckily, humans are pretty fucking weak, even if they are sparks.  They can’t outlast a werewolf.  Especially not two Alphas.  The poor guy wore himself to exhaustion trying to protect you and the rest of your clan.”

“Quit jabbering.”  The sullen one stepped forward, rolling his eyes.  “Listen, my name’s Ethan, and this is my brother Aiden.  We’re here to-“

Derek roared.  He leaped forward, swiping his claws at the intruders, aiming for their necks. 

The twins sighed in response, dashing forward.

Aiden grabbed Derek by the face, as Ethan slapped away Derek’s claws.  Each twin’s eyes began to glow red as they grabbed Derek’s jacket, spinning him around three times before throwing him across the room.

Derek landed on one of Deaton’s medicine cabinets, shattering the glass and leaving multiple cuts to his back.  His jacket ripped in the process.

“Don’t interrupt my brother again, or we might have to go pay a visit to your Betas at the high school, and then come back to deal with you.”  Aiden chuckled.

A powerful jolt sent shocks through Derek’s chest.  He stood, ripping off his jacket, and growling menacingly in the twin’s direction. 

“Oh yeah, we’ve been keeping a close eye on all of them, Alpha Hale.  Have been for the better part of a month now, so don’t push us.”  Aiden cackled, pacing around Derek, while Ethan maintained his distance.  “What do you think, Ethan?  Should we go after the curly-haired kid that can’t fight his way out of a paper bag?  Or the tan one with the puppy eyes which lets his guard down every ten seconds?  No, no, wait…  How about the bookworm who’s always playing chess?  I’d rather avoid the bitch with the blonde hair, she’s somewhat of a threat, though the blonde jock is sort of your type, huh Ethan?  We could scoop him up and take him home for you to play with.  Kali’s good about breaking in potential Omegas.”

Ethan sighed, shaking his head.  “Dude, shut up.  You’re more obnoxious than Ennis.  Why do you have to act like this all the time?”

“You’re right, what was I thinking?”  Aiden stopped about five meters from Derek’s face. “What about the mouthy one with the moles?  The one who can’t even shift into a wolf when he’s play-fighting?  He’d be fun to tear apart.” 

Fear crept into Derek’s stomach.  He balled his hand into a fist, snarling in the twins’ direction.  Red pulsed from his eyes, forcing his muscles to tighten and flex out of instinct.

“Ooh, look at that!  Somebody’s angry.  Aww-”  Aiden grinned.  “Does Alpha Hale have a soft spot for the runt of the pack?”

 _“Two Alphas.  I have no idea how strong they are, and only Erica could even help me here without getting seriously hurt.”_ Derek gulped, channeling his power into a broader shift.  His legs grew longer, while his shoulders and chest expanded, as much as he could get them.  He couldn’t call for the pack and keep them all safe at the same time.  Derek was alone for this one.  “You come near them, and you’re both dead.  Get out of my town, get out of my territory, and stay the fuck away from my Stiles, or you’re going to deal with me.”

Ethan ducked his head.

Aiden rolled back in laughter, wiping away an imaginary tear.  “Wow!  I totally haven’t heard that one before!  Ethan, Kali was totally right, these Alphas getting tested all have the same ten lines, right up until they die.”

“Test?”  Derek took an aggressive step forward, venting a burst of hot breath that steamed in the cold room.  “Is this some kind of a sick game to you two?”

Aiden nodded.   “Yeah, you could say that.  Our dad sent us here to test you out a bit.  To see if you’re really a worthy enough Alpha to hold this territory.”  He slammed a fist into the palm of his hand.  “You may have heard of him.  His name is Deucalion.”

Sweat pooled under Derek’s arms.  His shift faltered, if only for a moment, before switching back into place.  _“High Alpha Deucalion.  The Leader of the Alpha Pack, the werewolves with blood dating back Hati, the Left Hand of Fenrir himself.  Hunters gave up trying to kill him decades ago.”_

Derek gulped, steeling himself with another step forward.  _“I’ve got two of Deucalion’s Alphas to deal with.”_

Aiden cracked his knuckles, chuckling to himself.  “Ready, Ethan?  Let’s see if this Alpha is worth father’s time.”

Ethan quietly nodded, taking his place by Aiden’s side. 

The twins shifted into their wolfly visage, red eyes glowing as they both growled angrily in Derek’s direction.

For a moment, only the ticking of the clock could be heard between them.

Just as quickly, the twins and Derek’s shot forward, claws and fangs out.

Derek ducked the Twins’ first swiping attack, sliding underneath Ethan’s legs, and reared back for a punch against Aiden.

Aiden caught Derek’s punch, flinging him over the twins’ shoulders and onto an operating table.  Ethan followed through with a kick to Derek’s gut, sending him flying through the steel-plated table.

Suppressing the pain, Derek grabbed Ethan by the legs, swinging him around and across the room, giving him an opening to recover.  He kicked around to go face to face with Aiden, as they both turned their claws at the other’s face.  Each blocked their numerous attempts with their arms, with only minor scratches going through, which healed in ruptures of steam in an instant. 

Kicked off the wall, Ethan grabbed Derek by the waist, digging his claws into the Alpha’s side, holding him in place.

Derek roared, attempting to kick Ethan off him, only to find Aiden’s right claws rammed into his chest, inches away from his heart.  Aiden’s leftmost nails found themselves slicing Derek’s face open, spurting blood all over Aiden’s front.

Finding his prey close by, Derek forced through the pain in his chest, ramming all ten of his claws into Aiden’s chest, attempting to hit anything vital.  Aiden responded with a pained roar, and another swipe at Derek’s face, forcing a spurt of blood to erupt from one of his glowing red eyes.

In a split second, Derek recoiled to cover his eyes, Ethan removed himself from Derek’s sides, ramming is claws into Derek’s back.  He pushed Derek forward, pinning the Alpha to the ground, sitting atop the alpha, and forcing his feet onto Derek’s spine.  “Just…  Sit.  Still.”  Ethan huffed.

Derek screamed, swiping at the air helplessly, as the blood from his leftmost eye blinded him from seeing much of anything in front of him.  From the pain in his chest, Derek felt the pain of Ethan’s attack with each beat of his heart.  The bastard…  Hit an artery.

Swearing under his breath, Aiden took a knee, wiping the blood from his wounds.  “Nicked my lung…  You son of a…  Bitch…”  Aiden huffed, attempting to clot the wounds shut. 

Ethan rose his head, digging deeper into Derek’s back, ensuring the Alpha couldn’t move.  He looked over his brother in worry.  “Aiden-  You okay?”

“Fine.”  Shaking off the injury, Aiden rose, as smoke rose from the holes in his chest, beginning the healing process.  “If he’d nicked the heart, I wouldn’t be healing as fast.  Thank God he was too worked up over his Betas to fight me effectively.  Your attacks were pathetic, Alpha.  What were you even swiping at?”

“You-  Bastard…“  Derek muttered, coughing up a splattering of blood.

Aiden laughed, shaking his head.  “Goes to show you who’s got the right in our world, huh, Ethan?  Dad was…  Right.  Betas just make you weak in the end.  Caring about…  Anything…  Makes you weak.”

Ethen bit his bottom lip.

Aiden paced in front of Derek’s vision.   “How’s it feel, knowing you lost?  That everything you’ve done with these Betas has been for nothing?  You’ve failed our test, Alpha, miserably.”  He chuckled, devolving more and more into an unintelligible mess.  “That everything you love and care about is about to…  Go up in smoke?  Get it?  Because your family was burned alive?”

“Shut-  Up.”  Derek struggled to stand, the blood from his chest pooling on the ground around them. 

Derek didn’t have many options. 

They’d nicked the edge of his heart, one of the few weak points a werewolf could have.  Healing would be slow, and his body wasn’t going to be nearly as fast, and each beating of his heart was a painful reminder.  There was no getting up from Ethan’s pin without tearing his heart to shreds.

“If you keep fighting, you’re going to strain yourself more than you already have,”  Ethan mumbled, leaning down to Derek’s ear.  “You can’t beat us in that condition.  So why don’t you give up?  This test isn’t over.  Call your Betas.”

“Fuck you.”  Derek spat, covering Ethan’s face with blood spittle.

Aiden kicked Derek in the side, earning another pained wail from the Alpha.  “Come on, loser.  Six on two might be a little fairer, you know?  Assuming you even trust them to even throw a punch properly?  I mean, I wouldn’t, considering the shameful display most of them put on every weekend, but-  Hey, you might live through it with at least two or three of them alive!”

 _“They’re not…  Wrong.”_   Derek ended his struggle, head falling flat against the cold concrete, swimming in his own blood.  He couldn’t risk them.  Their lives…  Were worth more than that.

“Is that a no?”  Aiden asked, leaning down to Derek’s level.  He yanked the Alpha’s head up, planting his eyes mere inches away from Derek’s.  “So you’re going to die here, and let us take your power?  Leave your Pack to die without their valiant leader?”

Derek smirked.  “No…  No, they won’t.”  He slammed his eyes shut, blocking out Aiden’s constant, irritating words.

An Alpha’s power wasn’t so easily taken by force.  There was still hope in all of this.

Alpha’s power transferred to whoever was in the Alpha’s mind at the moment of their death.  Yes, murder was a pretty good way of accomplishing this, but-  Not for someone with Derek’s training.

He blocked out the world around him, gripping at the plastic baggie in the pocket of his jacket, still warm from the food that’d occupied it not half an hour earlier. 

A gentle smile crossed his face.  At least his last meal had been fantastic.

 _“Stiles…”_ Tears ran down Derek’s face. _“You…  You’ll know something’s wrong when you get my power.  You’re with them at school.  You’ll know to run if there was someone out there strong enough to kill me.  You value the pack more than revenge.  You’re smart.  So much smarter than anyone should be_.”  He bit down on his lip, trembling.  For all the years he’d wanted this release from life…  Only now did he realize how much he’d give to take all of that back. _“I never beat Boyd at chess.  Erica still has to pay me back for all the shit she charged on my credit card.  I never really had a good talk with Isaac.  To tell him…  How fucking strong he is.  Jackson-  Keep close to your parents.  You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone.  Scott, I’m-  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I took away your only chance at being human again.”_ Derek bit back a sob. _“Stiles, take care of them, alright?  Take…  Take good-“_

**“Hey, Derek, you in here yet?  You left your textbook back at the house!  I figured you wouldn’t want Deaton on your ass all day!”**

 

Derek’s heart stopped, watching Stiles casually stroll into the Vet’s back office. A broad smile, on that cocky face, without a care in the world. 

_“No.”_

Terror gripped Derek’s chest, watching Stiles’ face slowly melt into horror, dropping the textbook from his hands.

“ _No.”_

Using what little air was left in his lungs, Derek surged forward, Ethan’s claws tearing further into his heart.  “ **Run!  Take everyone and run**!”  He screeched, grabbing Aiden’s ankles, to give Stiles even a mere second or two of leeway.

Aiden kicked Derek’s hand away, with little more than a huff.

 

++++++

 

_“Derek.”  “Hurt.”  “ **Derek**.”  “ **Hurt**.”  _

Rage bubbled up from Stiles’ gut, watching a pair of blonde twins hurting…  **His** Derek.

Stiles’ shirt shredded in an instant, as his wolf forced itself out. 

Shifting for the first time since the bite, Stiles took a running start at the two Alphas in front of himself.

Claws double the size of Stiles’ hands eviscerated his favorite pair of shoes, clacking against the cold floor with each step, leaving ruts in the concrete as he ran. 

Fur covered most of Stiles’ visible skin.

“ **Leave him alone you, son of a bitch!** ”  Stiles roared.  His body moved on its own, propelling him forward into an aerial assault.  Claws unhinged, Stiles' eyes burned with tears, ready to rip out the bastards’ throats.

 

++++++

 

Derek saw it all in slow motion, as though time itself had frozen. 

Stiles’ aggressive angle, the awkward attempt at a pouncing attack, easily countered by anyone with even a little experience.  Aiden’s posture and angle… 

Struggling to move, Ethan’s claws ripped through Derek’s ribs, earning a pained roar from Derek, doing everything in his power to move forward.  To stop Aiden from attacking, to protect Stiles, to do anything useful.  He missed Aiden’s ankle by inches, watching the Alpha dash forward.

The jutted sound of flesh being pierced stopped Derek in his tracks.

 

++++++

 

Blood pooled in Stiles’ mouth, dribbling down the corner of his lips.

Stuck in mid-air, a cold numbness overcomes his body.  He couldn’t move, claws inches away from Aiden’s neck.  They twitched limply, as Stiles’ shift began to fade, bit by bit.

“Wow.  You really are terrible at this.  What was that?  You basically just jumped on me…  Wow, just…  Wow.  Your Alpha really left you high and dry on training.  Like, really, if you think about it, he’s the one that got you killed today, not me,” Aiden mocked.

Stiles sputtered blood, unable to form a single word.  The glow of his eyes vanished, as every extremity of his body fell limp.  He looked across the room, at one of Deaton’s operating mirrors, and could see the source of his numbness first hand. 

Aiden’s arm rammed into his stomach, with a pair of white claws poking out from his back.  Held in the air like a lifeless doll, Stiles’ couldn’t feel anything healing.  Instead, it felt as though everything from the inside was rolling to a slow halt.

“That was pretty dumb, Mieczyslaw.  If your Alpha couldn’t beat us, what makes you think you had a chance?”  Aiden mocked, shifting his arm from inside of Stiles.  He threw Stiles across the room and into one of Deaton’s cabinets, where he crumbled into a lifeless heap.  “Not that it mattered.  Nobody can beat an Alpha Pack Alpha one on one, let alone two on one.”

Stiles felt nothing but the awful cold creeping up, and around him, Aiden’s words lost on him.

Darkness overtook Stiles’ vision, blurring his peripheral.

 _“De-  Der-“_ Despite his willingness to move any of his limbs, none responded to Stiles’ wishes. 

A deep sob left Stiles’ lips, accompanied by another glob of blood. 

He tried to reach out. 

He tried to scream. 

He tried to do anything. 

_“Anyone-  He-  Help..”_

Stiles spotted Deaton, unconscious against the wall.

The Pack was at school.

Mrs. McCall was probably asleep, not that she could have done anything but comforted Stiles at that moment.

Dad was at work, though the police would’ve been slaughtered, even if they’d gotten involved.

Nobody was coming. 

Nobody was going to save them.

Tears rolled down Stiles’ eyes, as the world became little more than white noise to him.  He couldn’t hear Aiden’s insane ramblings, nor did he really care.

In his last moment of clarity, Stiles saw Derek.

Derek crying, clawing, doing anything in his power to move closer to Stiles.  He could just barely hear the Alpha’s constant chanting of “no,” “no,” “no,” followed by the painful sobs and bubbling blood that spurted from Derek’s mouth.

Stiles pictured the Pack.  If these werewolves had come to kill Derek, then it was only logical they’d go after the rest of them.  He saw them, all of them…  In pain, bleeding, their faces replacing Derek’s in the raw image before.

A shock ran down the length of Stiles’ spine, igniting a fire up his right side.  Stiles’ tears dried in an instant, as fear and sorrow were quickly replaced by unbridled rage.

_“Derek-  No, no, this isn’t fair!  He doesn’t deserve this shit!  Nobody deserves what he’s been through, without getting a happy ending!”_

The darkness clouding Stiles’ vision faded. 

_“Scott just started making the grades to get into veterinary school.  He just started accepting what he is, and moving on with his life.  My brother deserves better than this.”_

All colors in Stiles’ vision melded together into shades of red. 

_“Nobody touches my Isaac…  Not anymore!  They won’t…  They won’t lay a hand on him!”_

The numbing cold faded into an unbearable heat.  From feeling nothing to a searing heat ripping inside of Stiles, his body began to shake.  His arm shot out, pushing him up. 

_“I won’t let anyone make Erica hurt or sad, ever again.”_

Stiles’ hands cracked, breaking and shifting in a way that he’d never felt before. His fingertips grew, curving, and more claw than bone or skin.  Black swirls ran up and down his arms, doubling the size of any ordinary human arm.

_“B-  Boyd.  I won’t let him be alone.  Never again.”_

Steam billowed from Stiles’ skin, his muscle and bones doubling his body size.  His eyes felt as though they were imploding upon themselves.

_“Jackson.  That idiot actually has a chance at a good life with parents that love him.  Like fucking hell am I letting anyone else go through what I went through!”_

On hands and knees, Stiles’ bones crumbled from the inside, resizing and re-forming in an agonizing pain he’d never felt before.

Stiles shut his eyes, as the vision of red overtook him, accompanied by a howl that pierced through the heavens themselves.

++++

 

Aiden walked away from the lifeless mass he’d left in the corner.  The Beta had one or two minutes at most before it bled out and probably couldn’t hear him anyway.  He rotated his neck, ridding himself of a painful crick.  “Man, Ethan-  That was too easy.  Dad had me worried there for a bit that this might have been something of a challenge!  I had more trouble with Ennis’ training last week.” 

Approaching his brother, Aiden noted that Ethan had released Derek from his position on the floor.  Not that Hale was going anywhere, but the sad look on Ethan’s face was a little…  Disturbing. 

“What’s with the long face?  We won!”  Aiden scoffed, laughing as he gestured to the victorious mess before them.

“Do you have any kind of heart?”  Ethan balled his hand into a fist, walking away from the bloody scene before them. “You do realize these guys were probably mates, right?  Did you see how the Beta ran at you?  I bet he didn’t even try to size you up first.  If he had, he probably would have stood still and died, or ran off.”

“So?”

Ethan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “How can you do this, and laugh about it?” 

Aiden rolled his eyes.  “Does it matter?  They’re a pair of rotting corpses that just don’t know it yet.  Look at that one, still clawing away like he’s going to do anything.  Pathetic.”

Hale, still clinging to life, attempted to use his elbows to drag himself closer to the Beta.  He couldn’t advance more than a few inches before collapsing under the strain of his own body.

“You’re a sick fuck,”  Ethan muttered.

A growl settled in Aiden’s chest.  He grabbed Ethan by the scruff of his shirt, shaking his brother’s body with ease.  “Well, considering our Pack, I’d rather be a sick fuck than a dead fuck.”  Slamming Ethan into a nearby medical locker, Aiden snarled in his brother’s direction.  “Get with the program, brother.  Father’s orders are absolute.  If you want to disobey him and end up with your eyes gouged out for his latest experiments, your body used as a training dummy, or someone’s sick fetish as an Omega, you go right on ahead and keep badmouthing him.  You know as well as I do that the walls have eyes and one step out of line, and we’re as dead as our birth pack was.  Maybe worse!”  A solitary tear gathered in Aiden’s eye that he blinked out as quickly as it appeared.  “Do you want to end up like mom and dad?”

“Whatever.”  Ethan shoved Aiden away, trembling in fear.  He crossed his arms, waiting at the nearest exit.  “Take them, I-  I don’t want to see any of this.”

“Bro, this is our life.  Either we do it, or we die.  Might as well-“  Aiden paused, slamming his claws into the palm of his hand to control himself.  “Might as well get used to it.”

Striding over to the Alpha, Aiden leaned down to Derek’s form.  He grabbed Derek’s neck, pulling him into a standing position.  With his other hand, he hovered over Derek’s eye sockets, ready to collect his prize.  “Nothing personal, Hale.  You just got unlucky and got on father’s radar.  I’ll just take-”

Derek’s eyes opened, shining like a brilliant lapis.

Shining…  Blue.

“W-  What?”  Aiden shook Derek, forcing the Alpha’s eyes to open once more.  There was no trace of red to be found.  Any oppressive aura he’d felt while fighting Derek vanished, replaced with an overwhelming sadness.  The man’s muscles were evaporating before his very eyes, as steam rolled off the Alpha Hale’s skin in a wave of heat.  A coy smile covered Derek’s face.

Aiden dropped Hale to the floor, backing away from the scene.  “Wh-  What’d you do with it?  Where is your power?!”

Hale coughed, barely able to lift himself up on one knee.

Sweat poured down Aiden’s body, watching Hale’s body stitching itself back together.  Black swirls from Hale’s exposed right arm were covering his entire body, melding with his many injuries, and replacing the skin with dark ink.  As they worked their magic, Derek’s aura seemed to return, as was the Alpha’s cocky smile.

“Sorry-  Looks like…  Someones…  Borrowing it…  For a bit…”  Relief, of all things, covered Hale’s face.  Aiden smelt joy accompanying Hale’s gentle smile.

“Borrowing?”  As the word left his lips, Aiden felt the power.  Only, it wasn’t just Hale’s power.  No, it was…  More.  More than anything he’d ever felt in his life.  

Slowly, he turned to the source.  He screamed, falling backward, scrambling to catch himself.

The Beta he’d run through earlier, Stilinksi, the one his father obsessed over, was up and walking on all fours.  Slowly but surely, the kid’s human façade vanished, replaced with that of a fully-shifted Alpha.  With the limbs of a wolf, but tripled in size and volume, the Beta was more Beast than a wolf, rivaling the size of an SUV in size.

Like Derek, the hole in the Beta’s stomach stitched itself together with long, black fibers, which swirled from the back of his neck, down the front of his body, and into the open wound.  Organs and veins reattached themselves before all of the damage Aiden dealt vanished.

Yet, unlike Hale, all of the emotion he’d felt radiating from Stilinksi was gone. 

No anger or despair was coming from the Beast.

Only a killing intent of such intensity he’d felt once before in his life when Deucalion had “taken” him and his brother in.  When he’d watched his mother and father massacred before his very eyes.

Fear left Aiden frozen in place.  A fear amplified by a pair of golden eyes on Stilinksi’s wolfed face, with red cracks forming around the edges, melding together into a blood orange hue.

“Is that…  A full Alpha?”  Ethan rushed forward, picking his brother up from the ground.  He helped Aiden compose himself, as both twins shifted for battle once more. 

“No.”  Aiden shook his head.  “That’s…  That’s more than an Alpha.  It feels like…  Like…  Father.”

A warm chuckle forced Ethan and Aiden to jump, as Emissary Deaton rose from the side of the room, propping himself up on a chair.  “That, young man, would be the Right Hand of an Alpha, ready to protect his pack at any cost,”   Deaton sighed, hobbling to Derek’s side, helping the Alpha to support himself on both feet.  He smiled as the final shift in Stiles took place, and the four-legged wolf Beast roared, shattering the glass in every window of Deaton’s building.  “Best of luck.”

 

++++

Scott checked his phone for the hundredth time that morning.  When his attempts to gross Stiles out with the contents of the microwave had failed, and his buddy missed the first period, the dozens of unanswered texts left a nervous, icy pit in the bottom of his stomach.

As second-period Chemistry was moments away from starting, Scott leaned back to Isaac and Erica’s lab table.  “Have either of you gotten a hold of Stiles?”

Isaac tapped his fingers impatiently.  “No.  Stiles always answers his damn phone.  It’s literally attached to his right hand, and he texts as much as he talks.  Something is up.”

Erica chomped on her bubble gum with her full fangs, shaking her head.  “This isn’t normal.  I say we drive out to Deaton’s right now and make sure he’s not broken down on the side of the road again.  I swear to fucking God, tonight, we’re all taking his Jeep and throwing it off a cliff, then making Derek buy him a new one.”

Sighing, Scott shook his head.  “Listen, Rosco deserves a better end than that.  Let’s-“

**Pain.**

Searing, unbearable pain in his stomach.  Scott fell off his chair, clutching his abdomen, screaming in pain.  He lifted his head as the phantom pain subsided, watching as the rest of the class look at him as though he were a freak.  Though as he looked behind him, he spotted Erica and Isaac in the same predicament.

Aside from the pain, all he could hear at that moment was Stiles’ voice.  Stiles’ angry, pissed off tone that everyone and their worst enemy should fear.

“Scott-“  Standing up before the rest of them, Erica grabbed Isaac and Scott, dragging them out of the classroom, to an audience of perturbed classmates and a teacher screaming at them which they all chose to ignore.  “That-  That was not normal!  We’re checking on Stiles, right now.  His voice is screaming in my head right now.  Something’s wrong!  Something’s very wrong with my Stiles!”

“I’ll get Boyd,”  Isaac yelled, breaking with the group.

Erica tossed the keys to her car at Scott.  “I’ll get Jackson, you have the car by the front door waiting for us!”

“Got it!”  Scott pumped his legs up and down, running down the hallway, ignoring the worried pleas of teachers and students alike.  Though as he made his way to the front of the building, two figures stopped him in place, leaving him motionless.

A tall brunette in combat boots and an all leather outfit, with pale skin that glimmered like moonlight in the morning sun.  The outline of multiple weapons could be seen on the edge of her pants, waist, and on the inside of her coat.

Beside her stood a strawberry blonde, covering her mouth with all she should muster, doubled over in pain, tears rolling down her mouth.

“Allison,”  Scott muttered, staring blankly at the brunette.  He shook off visions of their past in his head, instead focused on Lydia Martin, resident banshee and newest ally of the Argent Hunters.

Allison bit her bottom lip.  “Lydia’s been trying to scream for Stiles for the last five minutes.”  She gulped, balling her hand into a fist.  “Before that, she almost screamed for Derek.”

Scott’s eyes burned a molten gold, growling in his throat.  “Come on, then!”  He screamed, pushing past the women and running as fast as he could into the parking lot.

+++++

_“Twelve more hours.”_

Sheriff Stilinksi rechecked his watch, leaning back in the comfort of his office chair.  Two days straight on-duty, covering for one of his deputies’ bullshit excuse of food poisoning. 

The Sheriff’s office had been relatively quiet the last few months, after the string of murders and animal attacks that left the town in an upheaval.  Since then, the department had time to return to normal, with the bulk of their force on standby, hovering around their dusty desks and all the other outdated relics of the past they were forced to work with.  Stupid budget cuts.

A migraine wracked Noah’s head, forcing him to reach into the bottom of his desk.  He retrieved a glass jar of dried purple petals, pulling out three or four, before mashing them into the contents of his coffee.

_“Twelve more hours still the strong stuff.”_

Noah brought the mug to his lips, as a sharp pain ran through his midsection.

The Sheriff screamed, dropping his mug of coffee to the ground, where it shattered over the floor.  He fell from his seat, scrambling on all fours as his morning’s breakfast tacos resurfaced.

_“Take care of him, Noah.”_

Noah’s hitched his breath.

_“I wish…  I wish I didn’t have to cause you so much pain.  I know this is going to be hard on you, in more ways than one.  Just-  Just please, try to hold on as long as you can.”_

Noah’s mossy green eyes filled with tears, as the searing pain in his stomach amplified tenfold.

_“I’ll miss you, Noah.  I’ll miss you both.”_

At that moment, Noah’s glazed, broken expression dissolved.  He choked on the heavy air all around him, only to finally raise his head, eyes focused on the southern part of town.  Where a roar shook the ground around him.

“Stiles.”

Noah’s green eyes crackled at the edges, highlighting with a lapis blue.

++++++

The roar shook Motel Glen Capri. 

A teacup shook, before toppling over on the table, shattering its murky contents all over the dirty floor.

Deucalion smiled, head held high as Ennis and Kali fell to the ground on their knees.  He stood, walking past his Alphas and gazing outside the still-shaking window.  “You’re so close…  Come now, Mieczyslaw…  I need you to push yourself a little harder.  Fight for your loved ones, or they’re going to die.  You wouldn’t want that, would you?  You’ve already lost one person close to you.  Surely you can’t bear the thought of losing the only other people that love you in this world.  Use that fear, the love, the passion, and obsession you have with those closest to you.  Value your Pack over your own life, dig deep into the willpower that only those who have lost can understand, and reach the heights I need, of a True Alpha…” Duke reached up, touching the bandages that covered his eyes. “Just like your mother did.”


	10. All for One

Aiden and Ethan leaped through of the nearest window in Deaton’s office, littering the ground outside the vet’s office with full panes of shattered glass.  They ran for the thick forest to the south, running on all fours, as fast as they could muster.

Stiles, instead, broke through the brick and mortar of the building, leaving a wide hole and a wave of destruction as his bestial form Beast gave chase, knocking entire trees over in the process.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?”  Ethan screamed, taking to the branches of the trees overhead to avoid Stilinski’s rapid advance.

“What do you think?”  Aiden roared, pausing as he landed next to his brother on a branch.  He extended an arm to his brother.  “We fight, or we die.”

Ethan nodded, taking a deep breath. 

The twins ripped their shirts off.  Aiden took Ethan’s arm, wrapping it around his own in a spiral fashion.  Each growled, as their arms transformed into a single mound of flesh, drawing them closer together.  Aiden’s right and Ethan’s left melded into one, as they fused, building muscle and bulk.  Once completed, their shared eyes flared to life, in a crimson red.

Just beneath the twins, Stiles arrived, rearing back on his hind legs.  He swiped at the massive girth of the tree’s trunk, slicing through it like whipped cream.  The tree collapsed before him, as the Twins lunged forward.  Their claws met Stiles’ shoulders but failed to penetrate the first layer of skin.  The Twins slipped off Stiles’ body, rolling to collect themselves.

Stiles stampeded forward, swiping at the Twins, who dodged the attack with inches to spare.  Instead, Stiles’ attack uprooted the nearby tree, sending it flying into the air, where it crashed it and leveled a portion of the forest.

The Twins aimed for Stiles’ stomach, claws sinking into its tender innards.  Their fused mouth curved into a smile, only to melt away moments later.  Stiles didn’t react to their attack.

Stiles’ claws, the side of car doors, grabbed both sides of the Twins’ fused form, yanking them out from his stomach.  The gaping wounds healed in the blink of the eye.

“Ho-  How?!”  The Twins roared, unable to break themselves from Stiles’ grip. 

Stiles’ blood orange eyes responded silently.  He pulled at the Twins’ sides, to tear them in two.  As he did, the fleshy mold that once fused them together began to break apart.  Before long, Stiles ripped them in two, as separate beings ones again.  Aiden and Ethan screamed in pain as their skin re-formed into a raw red.

Lifelessly kicking at Stiles’ arms, the twins were helpless as Stiles dugs his claws inside their sides.  Each screamed, as their fight slowly gave out, their red eyes beginning to pale in their tenacity.  A red glow flowed out from the twin’s body, through the claws that pierced them, up Stiles’ beastly arms, before coming to rest in his eyes, deepening the red hue within, from blood orange into a deep maroon.

Blood seeped out of Aiden’s lips, as his eyes finally came to rest on a shimmering coat of blue, before passing out entirely.  Limp as a noodle in the massive hand, Stiles brought Aiden’s body closer and closer to his jaws, tongue lapping outwards with copious drool.  A low, humored growl left the Beast’s lips.

Ethan roared, scrambling with all his energy to free himself, only able to escape with Stiles’ focus completely on his brother.  In those last moments, he shot forward, knocking Aiden out of Stiles’ grip, leaving his own body to be clamped down upon.  He screeched, falling limp as he lost all feeling in his lower body from the force of Stiles’ bite.

**“Stiles, stop!”**

**+++++**

Thanks to Deaton’s magical skill, and his own body’s natural healing, Derek carried the emissary on his back, following the path of the decimated forest, before finally reaching Stiles, Ethan, and Aiden.  Just in time to yank Ethan out of Stiles’ mouth, before the bastard ended up as brunch. 

Stiles growled in Derek’s direction at the interruption, standing roughly twice Derek’s height, and three times the man’s body mass.  With a single sniff, the growl faded instantly.  All intensity in Stiles’ movements ceased.  He stepped forward, pawing at Derek’s chest, covered in blood, but thankfully, quite stable.  Stiles ran his soft paw over where Derek had been stabbed.

Derek held up both hands, eyeing Stiles’ beasty visage.  The killing intent he’d smelt on Stiles moments earlier was gone, replaced by the sweet scent of relief and joy.  Tears rolled down the Beast’s face, accompanied by a pitiable whine.

“I’m okay-“Derek stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ wide berth.  “I’m okay.  We’re okay.  You’re…  You’re okay.”

Resting its head on Derek’s shoulders, the Beast’s mass of fur began to vanish alongside a thick coating of steam.  Bit by bit, the Beast shrank, ultimately small enough for Derek to fit his arms around Stiles’ naked form, holding onto Derek for dear life.  Stiles trembled, mumbling absentmindedly under his breath, hands digging into Derek’s sides. 

 _“Is everyone…  Okay?  Derek?  Is everyone-“_   Stiles mumbled, quietly crying for his Pack.

As Stiles returned to his senses, Derek watched his own arms and legs regrow themselves with the muscle tone he’d become accustomed to as an Alpha (if not bigger, given the ripping he felt at the seams of his jeans, on his backside, and up and down the sides of his shirts).  All while watching Stiles’ mysterious figure melt away before his eyes.  The maroon glow of Stiles’ eyes faded, reverting to their honey-colored shimmer, just as Derek’s gained a bloody red hue, deeper and darker than he’d felt before.

“Everyone’s fine.  Nobody’s hurt, Stiles, I promise.  I’ve got you…”  Derek said, just as Stiles finally passed out into Derek’s arms.  He shucked his shirt, wrapping it around Stiles’ waist to provide the slightest bit of modesty.  Carrying his Beta, bridal-style, Derek approached Deaton.  He smiled at his mate, imagining the strain Stiles went through to save them, still caring about his Pack, even while out of his mind.

Dropping Stiles at Deaton’s side, Derek glanced at his Emissary, still beaten and bloody from his encounter with the twins.  “Can you take care of him?”

“Of course, Alpha Hale.”  Deaton nodded, bowing his head respectfully in Derek’s direction.  After Derek stepped away, Deaton covered the ground in mountain ash, as an additional precaution, to protect the both of them.

All caring and love faded in Derek’s face the moment he turned away from Stiles.  He shifted on the spot, his Alpha form doubled in size and volume than it’d been not half an hour ago.  Stepping forward, he eyed Ethan, the only conscious one of the two.  He cracked his knuckles, snarling through his mouth.  “Don’t misunderstand me.  I didn’t save you because I plan on letting you live.”  Derek unsheathed his claws, doubled in size, and tripled in girth.  “I just refuse to let my mate become a murderer.  That’s my fucking job.”

Using only his hands and elbows, Ethan scrambled to shield his brother’s unconscious body.  Tears rolled down his face.  “Don’t…”

Standing over them, Derek laughed.  “If you’re about to beg for your lives, you are barking up the wrong tree.  I am all out of mercy at this point in my life, and you about took the best thing that’s ever happened to me away.”

Derek kicked Ethan to the ground, exposing the now-Omega’s neck.

“You guys have to run.  Now!”  Ethan screamed.

“You think I’m scared of you?  Oh, hell no.  It’s a fair fight now, bitch.  Suffer!”  Derek’s claws swung down, right at Ethan’s neck.

**“Deucalion wants your mate!”**

Derek paused, claws halted just above Ethan’s head.  The Omega’s shaking figure and tears belied a fear of something other than Derek.

Gulping, Ethan shook his head, crawling to spread himself over Aiden’s body, as a shield against Derek’s fury.  “You think we were a challenge?  Deucalion and his Right and Left Hand are just a few cities over.  Compared to them, Aiden and are I just a couple of bitches.  If you have any hope of surviving, you have to run as far away as you can, away from everything and everybody!”  Choking over his sobbing words, Ethan trembled.  “Deucalion comes from old money and old power.  Ancient money and power.  They have ways, Alpha Hale, to find just about anyone they want.  They have powerful people in their pockets.  Incredibly powerful people.  All of that…  Is going to be used to try and steal Stilinksi!”

Derek lowered his claws.  The kid wasn’t lying.  Terrified, yes.  Possibly dying of blood loss, yes.  But not lying. 

“Take my brother and me in, protect us from the Alpha Pack, and…”  Ethan shook violently, fear enveloping his entire body.  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know!  I’ve been under Deucalion’s thumb since I was five, I know everything!  Just-  Just don’t leave us to be found by them.”

Derek slammed his boot into Ethan’s chest, pinning him and Aiden to the ground with ease.  He felt the weight of his kick was far heavier than it’d ever been, digging the two into a small crater of his own creation.  “I make no fucking promises that you’ll live another day, but you are dead if you don’t start talking.  Tell me now, and fast!  Why would they want Stiles?”

Struggling for breath, Ethan shook his head, choking under the weight of Derek’s foot.  “I have no idea why he wants this kid, specifically.  All I know is that Deucalion is obsessed with fixing his eyes.  That’s the only thing I could imagine him putting this much effort into.  That’s all he cares about!”

“His…  Eyes?”  Derek cocked an eyebrow, lifting up the pressure on Ethan’s chest.  “What’s wrong with Deucalion’s eyes?”

“Someone blinded him.  If he uses his full power, he can see, just barely, but only for a few minutes,” Ethan said, ducking his head. 

“What?  High Alpha Deucalion is…  Blind?”  Derek zeroed in on Ethan’s heartbeat.  Again, the kid wasn’t lying.  “How the hell did someone blind Deucalion?  That man took on a squad of three hundred hunters, and lived to tell the tale!”  Derek removed his foot entirely, slack-jawed in amazement.

“I don’t know the full story, I was still just a kid back then.”  Ethan took a deep breath, reaching his hand out to touch his brother’s chest.  He hissed, draining away the pain from his brother’s wounds.  “I’ve overheard from the Pack, though.  About ten years ago, a woman fought to protect her husband and child from Deucalion himself, back when he was still in fighting shape.  She was her Alpha husband’s Right Hand, fighting to protect her tiny pack.  Deucalion gave her a mortal wound while fighting.  Just as Deucalion was about to off her and threatened her kid…  She became a True alpha.”

Derek’s chest tightened.  The kid’s story was true if his heart had anything to say about it. 

_“That’s impossible.  It’s just a legend.”_

A True Alpha was only born every century, at most.  Not one had emerged since the early 1900s, well before any of the modern Hale Pack came into being.  A thing of fairytales, ones Derek heard at bedtime from his mother and father, encouraging good behavior to become the penultimate superhero of the werewolf species.

Legends told of Alphas who received their power by ascending from the position of Beta, out of sheer willpower and strength of character, one who valued the lives of every living creature above their own.  One who’d never shed blood, innocent or not, acting as a creature of sheer determination.

Glancing behind, Derek started at his mate, being healed in a soft light by Deaton, his tiny chest rising and falling as he continued to sleep.

Did Deucalion see potential in Stiles?  Why Stiles, of all people?  How did he even know about Stiles in the first place?

Ethan sighed, breaking the silence as he stopped healing his brother.  Black veins protruded up and down the entirety of his upper body.  “The True Alpha gouged Deucalion’s eyes out, telling him he’d never hurt a living soul, ever again.  You and I both know that a wolf’s power rests in their eyes.  Without his eyes, Deucalion lost every ounce of his power at that woman’s hands, but she let him live.  Apparently, she told him that everyone deserved a second chance.”  Balling his hand into a fist, Ethan’ teeth chattered.  “She was wrong.  That idiot woman is the reason Duke is obsessed with Alphas and killing off as many strong ones as he can.  Their eyes are the only way he can keep his status as an Alpha, and hold on to even a fraction of his power.  But they don’t stick and have to be replaced every couple of weeks.  That’s why he needs a True Alpha’s eyes.  They’re the only ones that’ll make him whole again.”

Derek eyed Ethan and Aiden carefully.  He folded his arms, angry that he couldn’t kill them for everything they’d done to Stiles.  They were too valuable alive.  “So again, I ask you…  why the hell are they after my mate, of all people?”

“I told you, I don’t know!”  Ethan shuddered, bracing himself for warmth.  “All I know is that when Deucalion wants something, he takes it, by any means necessary.  Last time he wanted something this badly, an entire clan of professional hunters was wiped off the face of the planet, and nobody, not even the fucking Government, batted a goddamn eye.”  He lifted his head, attempting to stand on his own legs.  Neither of them responded to his will, and he fell forward, flat on his face.  Ethan swore under his breath.  “So you’ve got to take us and run!  Go south!  Their connections in Mexico aren’t as good, and if you can buy people off for their silence, you better fucking do it, or-“

**“-or what, Ethan?”**

  Derek froze, glancing off in the distance of the forest, missing the life vanish from Ethan’s eyes out of sheer fear.  Walking towards him was a familiar figure, with a bald head he fondly remembered making fun of, many years earlier. 

 “Ennis?  What are you doing here?”  Derek took a step forward, stopping as Ethan reached out, pulling Derek back.

“Careful…”  Ethan whispered, as vomit built in his gullet at Ennis’ presence alone.

Pausing, Derek put the pieces together, before assuming a defensive position towards Ennis.

“Derek, my boy, it’s been a long time since I saw you.  What was it… Junior High?  Sorry, I haven’t kept in touch, things became a little busy for me.  Did you make the captain of the basketball team on your own merits as a werewolf, or did you follow your mother’s advice and try to play as a “human”?  Man, I remember us chatting about that for hours.  Honestly, I thought I’d won you over.”

_“Ennis was the Alpha werewolf that came to live with us for a few months.  He wanted training from Mom, helped our pack expand our land, and…  He was the coolest guy I’d ever met.”_

Flashbacks to his old life came rolling back.  Hunting and play-fighting with Ennis, trying to emulate the vision of what Derek thought a “cool” werewolf was.  Not like the lame werewolves, his parents had been, wanting to hide everything about themselves. 

The man who Derek went to after Paige was bitten by a random werewolf, and…  Cried to.

“You’re with…”  Derek shook his head, stepping backward.  “No…  No, you can’t…  You can’t have been with them all this time?”

“Of course.”  Ennis stopped halfway between the clearing, folding his arms.  “Your Uncle was a prime candidate for us.  Though he never acted on it, we had high hopes of him dethroning Talia and have your family join our ranks.  After we killed his human wife in secret, that certainly devastated him, but he would never quite turn on his sister…  A pity.  If it weren’t for your pack’s bleeding heart politics, he might have made a great Left Hand for Deucalion.”  A chuckle left Ennis’ lips, as he smiled fondly in Derek’s direction.  “Then again, I also had high hopes of converting you to our side.  You were my little pet project, who I honestly hoped would end up being my protégé.  You were such a cocky, angry boy, who wanted to show off his powers every chance he got.  Biting your little girlfriend without her realizing it…  Then watching her die in your arms, being your support as the guilt ripped you in half…  Oh, I’d had high hopes for you, little boy.  The whole Alpha Pack had high hopes for you.”

_“Derek….  Derek it hurts…  Make it stop, please…  Please, make it stop!”_

Derek’s shift vanished, as his entire body was wracked in a cold, numbing sensation.  The words of his dearest friend rang deep in his mind.  “You did….  What?”

“After all the advice I gave you, after all the love and support I offered as your mentor, and yet-“Ennis rolled his eyes.  “Well, it was unfortunate that you fell into Kate’s arms instead of mine for support, I could have made something remarkable out of you.  Though I could see the appeal of her…  Swaying hips.”  Ennis licked his lips, winking inappropriately in Derek’s direction.  “You must have been the hero of the locker room, losing your virginity so young.  Did you have fun telling the other guys about your “conquest,” being the real “Alpha Male” of your buddies?  Did you tell them all about all the intimate details and all the things she did for you?”  He shrugged, continuing his forward advance.  “Though I suppose it wasn’t “your” conquest.  Your family was her conquest instead, isn’t that right?  Was the blowjob worth it, Der?” 

_“What can I do for you, baby?  Where do you want me, hot stuff?  Here?  Here?  Or maybe…  Down here?”_

A cold sweat ran down Derek’s back.  His arms fell limply to the side, as the wailing, terrified voice of one woman, and the sickening sweet nothings of another woman ran through his head.  They fought inside him, shaking him down to his very core.

 

**“Derek, that man is baiting you!  Wake up and watch your position!”**

 

Blinking back into reality from Deaton’s shout, Derek spotted Ennis’s footing was well within a striking position to take Derek out.  He yanked Aiden and Ethan along with him, leaping backward to stand in front of the mountain ash barrier, chucking the twins away from the combat zone.

Derek roared, assuming his full shift, standing in height and volume on the same level as Ennis.

“Well, I can see you’re not in the mood for catching up.”  Ennis shrugged, letting out an annoyed sigh.  “In that case, let me see the boy.  I need to see if he’s ripe for the picking yet or if he needs a few more kicks in the ass.”

“You’re not touching him!”  Derek shouted, vaulting forward.  His pearl white claws met Ennis’ ebony black nails, sending a shower of sparks across the ground, and a crater left in its wake from the force of the impact.  They stood, fronting on each other, each trying to gain the advantage in their grappling match.

A sly smile crossed Ennis’ face.  “The Right Hand just had to go and share, didn’t he?  No matter.”  Raising his foot, Ennis kicked Derek square in the stomach, sending him flying across the clearing. 

Derek landed, smashing into the mountain ash barrier, falling to his knees.  He caught his breath, able to stand moments later.  Glancing down at his barren chest, he watched as the slight bruising from Ennis’ kick healed itself in record time.  _“How…  Am I this much stronger?  That should have broken my ribs, at least.”_

“Do you really think you can stop me, Derek?  I’m Deucalion’s Right Hand.”  Ennis shouted, breaking Derek out of his thoughts.  He wiped off his claws, chuckling.  “Between you, the pair of neutered twins, the worn out Emissary, and the runt, there is absolutely no way you can beat me.  In all honesty, all I care about it making sure to keep the Beta as undamaged as possible until I know how far along he is.  If it weren’t for that, you’d already be dead right now.”

“Fuck you!”  Derek screeched.

 **“Derek, compose yourself!”** Deaton yelled, standing up and standing protectively over Stiles’ body, pulling the twins inside the mountain ash barrier as well.  He huffed, wiping the sweat from his brow.  “Tactical warfare tells us we are in favor if we draw this fight out.”

Derek caught sight of Deaton’s enigmatic smile.  He wasn’t sure what was going on in the man’s head but nodded all the same.  Calming himself, Derek bolstered his shift for Ennis’ next attack.

“You think you can beat me in a prolonged fight?  What a joke…  I’ll have you know, Emissary, that I-“  Ennis took a step towards Deaton, as an arrow shot into his back, poking through the center of his chest.  He stopped in place, watching as a purple fog began to evaporate from the arrow’s point, and a steady ooze of black blood began to drip from the wound.  “W-  What?”

Derek’s gaze shot behind Ennis, way up in the trees. 

Standing atop a branch was Allison Argent, already nocking another arrow into her bow.  She fired a second shot, hitting Ennis in the back of the leg.  The Alpha fell to this second attack, down on one knee.

“Are you guys okay?”  Allison yelled, discarding her bow in favor of a pair of pistols.  She loaded the weapons, hopping down from the tree and entering the clearing.

Before Derek could answer, Ennis laughed, breaking the silence in the forest.  “I see what you meant, Emissary.  Well played.”  Standing up once more, he effortlessly pulled the arrows from his chest and leg, where the purple venom dissolved, and the wounds closed up.  He turned to the Huntress, chuckling. “Little girl, do you think this is the first time I’ve been shot with a wolfsbane arrow?”  Ennis smashed the wooden arrows into little more than sawdust between his fist.  “For your information, little girl, all members of the Alpha Pack are poisoned with it from the time we’re born, to develop an immunity.  All wolfsbane does to any of us is allow us to get drunk, so I sincerely hope that wasn’t your only weapon, or you’re about to die an excruciating death.”

Allison smirked.  “No, I didn’t figure it would work.”

Ennis paused for a moment, confusion set on his face, craning to understand Allison’s words.  In that brief moment, he missed blur of Scott and Isaac dashing out of the brush from his right and left, each grabbing one of the Alpha’s legs, pinning him in place.

“What?”  Ennis yelled, too focused on kicking off Scott and Isaac to notice Boyd flying out of the trees, and wrapping around the man’s midsection, yanking him backward with a German suplex.

Jackson darted into place, forcing his claws into both of Ennis’ arms, pulling them away from anyone else in the pack.

“Now!”  Scott screamed.

With Ennis’ midsection exposed, Erica flew out from behind Allison, running on all fours, in a blur of yellow hair and golden eyes.  She leaped in the air to close the final gab, before landing her clawed feet into Ennis’ thighs to secure herself.  Rearing back, Erica stabbed the man repeated, using her claws like daggers.  Screeching as she attacked, over and over again, Ennis’s many wounds sputtered blood over the land before them, before the man finally went limp in Boyd’s arms.  Erica, out of breath, stopped her attacks, leaning backward and falling off his body. 

Silence overcame the forest.  Not the wildlife, not the animals, not even the wind itself dared to make a noise.  All Derek cared about, was his focus on was Ennis’ heartbeat.

A heartbeat which slowly, but surely…  Faded into oblivion.

Derek fell to his hands and knees in relief, digging his hands into the earth.  He took deep breaths, in an attempt to collect himself.

“Stiles!”  Scott screamed, rushing past Derek with Isaac in tow, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.  They joined Deaton and Stiles, as soon as the ash barrier was broken by Deaton.  Allison and Lydia soon joined them, knelt down to the Stiles’ side

“Derek…  Are you okay?”  Erica asked.

Erica and Boyd knelt at Derek’s side, giving him the support to lean on.  Jackson joined them, wiping the blood from Erica’s face, and covering Derek’s exposed torso with his Prada jacket. 

“What the actual…  Fuck?”  Jackson muttered, collapsing onto Derek’s side.  He wiped the blood from his shoes and designer jeans.  “What was that all about Derek?  What the hell happened to Stilinksi, and what was with the creepy murdering psycho talking about?!”

Derek shook his head.  “I-  I don’t…”  He sighed, leaning on his three Betas for support, as the exhaustion of the day final set in.  “I don’t care right now at this point…  We survived.  I’ll explain it all later.”

“Deaton?  Scott?  Isaac?  Where-  Where am I?” 

Derek’s head shot up, watching as Stiles slowly woke from his sleep.  In Scott’s arms, Stiles rose up, blinking his golden eyes open.  He shook his head, struggling to move his limbs.  “What’s going on?  Why am I naked, and-”  Horror struck.  “Derek!  Deaton!  Where are-“

“Relax, Mr. Stilinksi.”  Deaton reached over, patting Stiles on the shoulders.  “Everything is fine.  You repelled our attackers, and the Pack managed to help finish the job.”

Relief flooded Stiles’ body, as he relaxed into Scott’s arms.  The golden glow of his eyes faded, as they returned to their usual human hue.

 

**“I see the boy wasn’t pushed far enough.  What a shame.”**

Scott and Isaac spun around, shifting on all fours as they roared in the direction of the voice.  Allison armed herself with a pistol from her boots, falling to one knee and aiming.  Lydia and Deaton covered both of Stiles’ sides.

Erica, Boyd, Jackson, and Derek rose up, spreading out in an offensive pattern. 

All of their eyes focused on Ennis’ body, who was up on one knee.  He clutched his stomach, chuckling to himself.  Pulling away from his chest, each and every one of Erica’s stab-wounds was healed over.

“What the-  I…  I fucking stabbed you!  A million times!”  Erica screeched, rearing to fling herself at him again, stopped at the last second, with Boyd holding her back.  “You should be dead!”

Derek gulped, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I heard your heart stopping.  How-  How the fuck are you-“

“A lovely trick to fool unsuspecting pawns, Derek.  I’m upset none of you tried to approach me, I could have taken at least one of you down that way.  Right in the neck.”  Smiling, Ennis blew a kiss in Erica’s direction.  “As for you big tits, try harder next time.  You hurt moderately more than the arrow to the chest, but not by much.” 

Ethan crawled forward, pulling himself up on both legs with Deaton’s help.  He stood, shaking his head.  “Any high ranking Alpha in the Alpha Pack, they…  They can block out pain entirely.  It’s all the wolfsbane they take, to numb themselves to everything.  You have to kill them, or they’ll just keep coming back, again and again…  Deucalion…  Doesn’t allow weakness anymore.”

Derek pushed his Betas backward, as far away from Ennis as he could.  He held his breath, unsure of how to proceed.  None of his betas were trained to kill.  They were taught to disarm, disengage, and weaken enemies. 

Ennis took a step forward, wiping the blood from his clothes.  “We’ll have to do this all over again, at a later time.  Deucalion would kill me if the boy died before we could use him, and frankly, the boy looks as though he could be blown down by a brisk breeze.”

“Oh fuck you!”  Stiles wobbled up, only to fall back into Lydia and Deaton.  He coughed, struggling to stay upright.

Ennis clicked his tongue, chuckling as he continued his advance towards the Pack.  “You’re so much like your mother, Miescyslaw.  She used to mouth off like that, too.  Right up until the very end.”

Derek gathered the pack together, hefting Stiles into Scott’s arms.  He wasn’t sure what a Miezel’s Slaw was, but that was far from the relevant part at the moment.  “Scott, take Stiles, Deaton, and Lydia and get out of here.  Boyd, go with them and help get them all to the emergency shelter.  The rest of us can handle this, and if we don’t make it back in an hour, you’ll know to-“

 **“How do you know that name?”** Stiles screeched, breaking free of Scott’s grasp.  “ **How the fuck do you know my mother?** ”  He fell to the ground, on hands and knees as he rose his head, frothing at the mouth.  Scrambling up, Stiles fought Derek off, trying to get at Ennis with everything his weak limbs could muster.  A set of fresh tears ran down Stiles’ face.   “Only my mother ever called me that…  Only her…” 

A sharp cold ran down Derek’s spine as he watched Ennis’ wry grin. 

“You’re so much like her, it’s…  Really quite disgusting.”  Halting his forward advance, Ennis gestured to Derek.  “You take Hale’s power to fight, as any Right Hand should in that situation.  A prime opportunity to take the Hale Pack for yourself.  Your Alpha failed you, and you had no obligation to return that power.”  He turned his gaze to the twins.  “Even worse, you steal Aiden and Ethan’s status as Alphas to eliminate them as threats.  You could have very well become quite a powerful Alpha at that point, easily capable of taking out Derek, but you don’t even keep their power for yourself.  You give it all back to your Alpha when you’re done, plus interest.  How…  Altruistic.”  Folding his arms, Ennis unsheathed his claws, advancing forward once more.  He pointed his pitch-black claws in Stiles’ direction.  “That’s your mother’s blood in you.  That…  Compassion.  That disgusting…  Contagious…  **Weakness** …  I’ve seen it break down a powerful Alpha first hand, leaving them a shell of their former selves.”  Ennis poised himself to strike.

Grabbing Stiles up in his arms, Derek wrapped himself around his mate, shielding all the vital organs, despite Stiles’ constant wriggling.

Ennis thrust forward, before coming to a complete stop, forcing the Hale Pack to flinch instinctively.

“There it is, firsthand.”  Ennis chuckled, eyeing Derek’s form.  “You’ve already turned Hale into a docile kitten.  I don’t even recognize the boy, to be honest.  If I had it my way…  You’d be dead already, Stilinksi.  You and every one of these pathetic, useless creatures you’ve poisoned.  Honestly-”  Ennis clicked his claws, licking his blood-splattered lips.  “… I think it might just be the best for everyone if I brought you back to Deucalion in pieces.”

Gunfire streaked through the air, plinking off Ennis’s chest, head, and shoulders with each bullet fired.  Allison reloaded her pistol, firing off a fresh cartridge, to much the same result.  “Shut the fuck up, you monster!”  She screamed.

Erica and Boyd shifted, appearing before Derek’s side, claws out and ready to fight.  Erica rose her head, screaming wildly as total instinct took over.

Isaac and Jackson darted behind Ennis, both on all fours, and fangs poised to attack.  “Like hell you are, you son of a bitch.”  Isaac hissed.

Scott took Stiles from Derek, handing him off to Deaton and Lydia before joining his Alpha’s side.  He slammed his hand on Derek’s shoulder.  “What’s the plan…  Alpha?  How do we take this bastard down?”

Derek felt seven hearts beat in unison from the depths of his chest.  Seven Alpha Bonds rushing through his veins.  He nodded, letting the power flow through him, and pushing past his own personal limits.  Shifting to a colossal version of himself he’d never felt before, Derek slammed a hand back on Scott’s shoulder.  “Like we do in practice.  Take him down, and leave the rest to me.”

With little more than a depressed sigh, Ennis waved the Hale Pack off, eyes still focused on Stiles.  “Shame.  I thought for sure threatening your loved ones would have provoked your final change, Mieczyslaw…”  He looked all around him, at the Betas and Alpha before him, all eyeing his vital points with great interest.  No sign of concern crossed his face.

“You’re **not** getting away.”  Boyd bellowed.

“Nobody, and I fucking mean **nobody** , touches our Stiles.”  Jackson snarled.

 “I don’t miss twice, chrome-dome.”  Erica spat. 

“Rest up, Miescylaw.”  Ennis ignored the Betas, vanishing into thin air, to the surprise of the Pack as a whole.  He reappeared in the branch of a tree, far off from the Hale Pack, and breaking the silence of the forest with contagious laughter.  “Until we get what we want, it will be our personal mission as the Alpha Pack to kill every single person you love, Mieczyslaw!  Know that every day you’re alive, their lifespan dwindles away.  So you better give us what we want, and get a hell of a lot stronger, or all of them are going die, and it’s going to be all your-“

Ennis was cut off by a pair of claws, black as night, rammed through his chest.  His laughter ceased, with all color draining from the Alpha’s face.

**“No.  You won’t.”**

Derek turned away just in time to miss the claws force from the man’s ribs a solid-black heart, crushing it like a piece of fruit.  By the time Derek glanced up, he saw Ennis’ corpse falling to the earth below, littering the surface with a black, sludge-like facsimile of blood.

Atop the branch where Ennis stood just moments earlier, Sheriff Stilinksi gazed over the carnage. With a clawed hand covered in black blood, staining his uniform and boots.  He seemed unaffected by the carnage, inspecting the blood-soaked hands with great interest. 

Hopping down to the ground, the Sheriff stepped over Ennis’ dead body, sighing as he joined the speechless crew of the Hale Pack.

The Sheriff’s human eyes slowly morphed as Ennis took his last breath.  They flickered for several minutes until finally focusing on gem-like lapis blue.  Purple-stained veins from inside Noah’s body pushed to the surface, forcing the Sheriff to double over in pain, vomiting a vile, purple paste all over the ground.  He continued to cough up the disgusting fluid for several minutes as the Pack watched on in horror.  “Damn…  That hurts.” 

“D-  Dad?”  Stiles’ voice cracked, breaking the silent tension of the murder they’d all witnessed.

Noah shook his head, wiping the vile sludge from his mouth.  “We need to move.  On my way here, there was a noise complaint filed by some of the neighbors.  Something about a tree flying into an unoccupied mobile home.  My deputies are incompetent, but they’re not stupid enough to ignore the blood trail, a dead body, and what I presume must be a destroyed veterinary clinic.”  He shucked his Sheriff’s jacket, covering Stiles’ form with it, to add to Derek’s shirt.  Father and son shared a brief moment of silence, followed by a warm, all-encompassing embrace.  Still holding onto his son, Noah rose his head, turning to the rest of the Pack.  “Scotty, I’m going to need your help moving this body to my car.  Lahey, you too.  We’ve got less than fifteen minutes until this place is swarming with the police.”

“Y-  Yes, Sir,”  Scott mumbled, blinking absentmindedly.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat in the process.  “My dad’s crematorium’s still running.  I know how to run it if we need to get rid of the body.”  He paused, as the rest of the group eyed him suspiciously.  “I feel like I shouldn’t be saying that in front of a Sheriff.”

“Right now I could give less of a damn about the law.  We’ve got bigger problems.”  Noah released Stiles, guiding him into Derek’s arms.  “Hale, Reyes, take him somewhere safe.  Do not let him out of your goddamn sight, I have no idea how many people like Ennis are in the city right.  From what I just saw, you two are the only competent ones here at fighting, so please do not get yourselves killed.”

Derek nodded, unable to form any kind of intelligible comeback. 

Deaton sighed, waving goodbye to the pack as he walked off, back to his office.  “I’ll return to my office to deal with the authorities and spin an appropriate tale of drug theft and attempted robbery.  I’ll have to be creative with the new hole in my wall.  Heavens, insurance isn’t going to cover half of this.”

Allison stepped forward, dropping to her knees, surrounded by empty casings and countless spent magazines.  She gazed around at the pointlessness of her damage, slamming a fist into the ground.  “I’ll have to tell my dad about all of this.  I don’t know a whole lot, but-  I know the Alpha Pack is something way above any of our heads.  That bastard didn’t’ so much as flinch on anything I did, but…  Maybe we can get help?  God help us, will we need all the help we can get.”  Lydia joined her on the ground, wrapping her arms around Allison for support.

Noah rolled his eyes at Allison’s remark.  He strutted over to the twins, Ethan still with limited mobility, and Aiden still very much unconscious.  As Ethan opened his mouth to speak, Noah slammed a fist into the kid’s face, knocking him out cold.  He glared in Jackson’s direction.  “Bring the twins back to wherever your Pack House is, and chain them down with everything you’ve got.  I have questions for them.”

“Yes, sir.”  Jackson ducked his head, backing away from the intensity in Noah’s eyes.

Nobody chose to speak as each member of the Pack silently and swiftly retreated from the forest, performing their duties as they went along the way.  Solemn expressions, pale faces, and a jumble of negative emotions that Derek smelt as he drove off, Stiles and Erica in tow.

The scent of terror, disgust, and all-encompassing fear sent a wave of nausea through Derek’s stomach, made worse by the sickly smell of Stiles’ tears.

Yet, despite the putrid smell… 

Underneath it all, Derek could still, if just barely, could make out the sweet scent of relief.

 

+++++

 

Deucalion’s chess match with Kali was interrupted by a painful, crushing sensation in the pit of his chest.  Happening mid-move, Deucalion’s hand knocked over his bishop, which in turn hit two pawns off the board, scattering under the musty mattress.  His mouth slowly gaped open.

“Father…”  Kali raised her gaze, shaking her head in disbelief.  “Do you feel that?”

Nodding, Deucalion rose himself from the motel bed, hobbling in his blindness to reach the window.  He touched the cold pane of glass.  Pausing for several moments, Deucalion finally sighed.  “Ennis is dead, and his power is not returning to me.  Someone destroyed it.”  He searched for two weaker pulses in his chest, growling quietly as he felt nothing in response.  Instead, he sought out the power outside of his body, sensing the forces of nature itself.  Duke balled his hand into a fist, slamming it against the window, creating a crack that spread throughout the entire pane before shattering to the ground.  The air of the countryside wafted inside the motel room.  “The twins are no longer a part of us.  Their power is gone, and Alpha Hale’s aura is quite larger than it once was, so I can only imagine they lost.  They’re Omegas now, and I’ve lost my link to them.”

“Impossible.”  Kali rose, claws and fangs protruding from her body.  “Father, what should we do?  Shall I go and-“

Deucalion’s rage vanished.  A scent all too familiar caught his nose from the outside, from a wolf.  The aroma of rain, accompanied by the delightful scents he cherished.  Fear.  Terror.  Disgust.  Hopelessness. 

Duke turned, offering Kali a polite smile.  “We collect ourselves, Kali.  Our efforts today were not in vain.”  He strode across the motel, stroking the countless chess pieces remaining in his game.  “Our first attempt has failed, but our target’s body is going to grow from this experience.  Far better, I can tell our target’s spirit is broken, ready to be tempered by our blade.  The next time we attack, I have no doubt that a True Alpha will rise from the ashes.”  Leaning his head outside the motel window, Deucalion cherished the aroma riding the breeze, all the way from Beacon Hills.  “Get in touch with our contacts in South Africa, book us a flight, and inform the country’s High Alpha of my arrival.  There’s a valuable piece I intend to recover and be back in Beacon Hills by the next full moon to settle this matter once and for all.  I didn’t believe her to be necessary, but…  I have a feeling she’ll be the nail in the Hale pack’s coffin.”

Bowing to her Alpha, Kali quickly retrieved her cell phone, scrolling through the countless numbers, before bringing the phone up to her ear.  She exited the room, speaking with her foreign contact at a furious pace.

Left to his own devices, Deucalion picked up the white queen, fiddling with it through his fingertips.  He walked back to the window, his bare feet tearing into the shards of glass, leaving clean cuts for blood to slowly seep outwards.  The Alpha didn’t flinch, instead raising his face to the sun, and basking in its warmth.  “So, Claudia, your son and his Pack was able to overpower Aiden and Ethan.  Such a shame they failed me, that fusion trick could have been very valuable to me…  Oh well.  They’ll make for a lovely pair of toys for Kali to keep herself entertained.  Her last Omega is wearing thin at this point.”  The cool autumn breeze struck Deucalion’s face, earning a wide smile.  “Taking out my Right Hand, though...  Unexpected, to be sure, but not a loss for me.  No, my dear, not by a long shot.  There are hundreds of meatheads out there lusting for power to compensate for their overwhelming fear of mortality.  Ennis is easily replaced, by dozens of my brethren.”

Deucalion set the white queen amongst the shards of glass.  “I may have lost this battle, Claudia, but I am going to win the war.”  “Your son and his friends already know the fear of the Alpha Pack.  Their bonds are going to suffer, knowing my inevitable return is going to mean losing everything they love and cherish.  If the weaker ones don’t run away in fear, that is.” 

Collecting several other pieces from his set, Deucalion placed the rooks, bishops, knights, and pawns around the queen in a circle.  “Your faith in the bonds of family and love wasn’t all foolish, I’ve come to learn.  The power of a True Alpha is more than enough to prove your heart held merit, and certain Packs were quite a threat to me when they banded together, and yet-”  Deucalion slammed his sliced, bloody foot against the wall.  The queen toppled, knocking over the rook, which knocked into the bishop, creating a domino effect until the last piece fell.  “-how easily do they crumble.” 

Collected the black king from the board, Deucalion placed it among the fallen white pieces. “Do you have any idea of the number of packs that fell into shambles?  Oh, I’ve seen them crumble, Claudia.  One glance at my face is enough to watch brothers and sisters, lovers, and best friends throw each other in my path, to give themselves even a moment more of life, at the expense of their “loved one.”  Family is so easily divided, Claudia, and when they give in to fear, any façade of strength they once had as a group vanishes into thin air.  All that’s left is them at their weakest, begging for death.”

Walking through the broken glass once more, Deucalion removed the bandages covering his eyes.  He opened his eyes to a blank, black expanse.  “I refuse to lose to you, Claudia.  Wherever you are, I want you to watch your loved ones fail.  Watch as they cling to hope and to their loved ones, only to have that beautiful peace ripped from their still-beating hearts, and experience despair firsthand.”

Deucalion’s eyes glowed red, replacing the darkness with a red vision of the hotel room before him.  He shredded the bandages in his hands, laughing as he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror.  Of his full shift, a body black as the night sky with jutted spikes protruding from his skin.  Pointed, horned ears, and rounded, demonic plates of flesh that encompassed his face.  Fangs that jutted below his jawline and above his nose.  Claws black as the void, clicking loudly against the mirror before him.

“This is the end, Claudia.”  Deucalion brought his claws to the eye sockets of his reflection, laughing at the vision before him. “I am going to rip your son’s eyes out and use your own flesh and blood to fix what you’ve broken.  When my vision returns, the last ten years of unbearable weakness will finally be avenged.  I will show you, my darling, exactly what happens when you give the High Alpha a second chance-“

The mirror shattered the moment a single claw touched it, crumbling into dust and blowing out of the window, in a scattered burst of air.

**“-by destroying everything and everybody you ever loved.”**


	11. Two for One

Upon their return home, Derek swept Stiles off his feet.  Taken into the Alpha’s bedroom, Derek securely locked the door behind them, barking an order not to enter.  Every scrap of their remaining blood-stained clothes, reeking of death and terror, were ripped off and secured in three layers of plastic trash bags.  With most of the smells now trapped off, the dread slowly seeped out of Stiles’ bones.  Alpha and Beta could breathe again, without suffocating.

Derek guided Stiles into the Alpha’s master bathroom, in all its elegance, pressed up against the Beta, providing a shared warmth between their bodies.  Across the heated tiles, steam rose from the ground with each step Stiles took.

Derek flipped on the shower, adjusting it to an appropriate temperature, one hand still firmly clasping Stiles’.  Once satisfied, Derek procured a wet washcloth and turned back to face Stiles.

Starting with Stiles’ face, Derek struggled to maintain his human features, wiping away the streaks of blood.  Eventually, a pair of pointed ears, a crooked nose, and long fangs protruded.  “I’m sorry…  Stiles, I’m…  I’m sorry.”  He said, struggling to speak through his fangs and trembling rage that formed into a distinct growl.

Stiles leaned against the bathroom sink, slowly calming down with the warmth of the wet cloth, Derek’s touch, and the familiar smells of the pack house surrounding him.  “What are you sorry for?”  He blubbered, on the verge of tears.  Much like Derek, Stiles’ face slowly receded into a wolfish visage.  “I’m the one that…  That couldn’t do anything…  I’m the dumbass that got impaled, and just…  Just watched you suffer!”

“Don’t say that!”  Derek spat, tossing the now-bloodied washcloth into the nearest trash.  He grabbed another wet cloth and wiped the black and crimson-colored blood from Stiles’ chest.  “I’m the one that couldn’t save you!  I wasn’t strong enough!  If you hadn’t stepped in and used your power as our Right Hand, all of you would be-“ Derek froze.  The Alpha’s hand shook uncontrollably, barely able to wipe away the streaks of blood.  “-no.  Everything was good again.  We were all…  I am not losing another-  I can’t lose another-“ 

Dropping the cloth, Derek slammed his fist into the marble countertop of his bathroom, shattering it into thousands of broken chunks.  He roared, digging his claws repeatedly into anything he could get his hands on.  Towels were shredded.  Wall accents were cut in half.  Any and everything Derek could get his hands on were flung across the bathroom, in a frothing, violent rage. 

Derek’s frenzy subsided, eventually leaving the naked Alpha on his hands and knees, struggling to find his breath.

Stiles stepped forward, bending down to Derek’s level.  He pulled his Alpha up, on both feet, before leaned forward, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.  He wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist, clinging him together.  “You said it earlier, Der.  We’re okay.  Right now, we’re okay.  Everyone’s alive.”  Stiles muttered.

They stood in shared silence, each focusing on the other’s heartbeat. 

As time passed, Stiles broke contact, collecting the wet cloth Derek had used earlier.  He stood up on his tip-toes, taking a turn to wipe away the blood and dirt from Derek’s face.  “I don’t understand any of this.  What the hell is an Alpha Pack, why did those fucking twins attack us, and how did that guy know you?  How’d he know my mom?  What…  What the hell is with my dad apparently being a werewolf?  I swear, I did not think my dad was a werewolf.  For God’s sake, he was the town drunk!”  Tears pearled and rolled down Stiles’ face in droves.  “What the hell is going on?!”

“I don’t know,”  Derek muttered.  “If what that kid said was true, then the Alpha Pack wants you to become a true alpha, so they can harvest your eyes.  Which makes absolutely no sense to me.”

Neither spoke as they stepped into the shower together, continuing to scrape the blood and viscera from each other’s bodies with a combination of soap, water, and gentle touches from their clawed hands. 

Hot water rained down from the showerhead, scalding Stiles’ pale skin to a pinkish hue.   Red-tainted soapy suds washed away from his firm, toned body, down his curved hips and buttocks, all the way down his long, lanky limbs.    

Stiles struggled to remove the clumps in Derek’s chest hair.  More hair covered the Alpha’s body than ever before, like a short pelt of fur from his head down to his toes, accompanying Derek’s broader shoulders, bouncing pecs, and thighs thick as watermelons. 

Leaning back against the wall of the shower, Stiles cranked the heat up, letting the showerhead pelt his body with boiling water.  The smell of death was still too much for his nose to handle.

“What are we going to do?”  Stiles muttered.

Derek leaned against the opposite wall, sliding down until he took a seated position, letting the runoff water soak him thoroughly.  “Right now…  We wait.  The immediate threat is gone.  Your father seemed to have an idea of what was going on.  Argent’s going to want to be involved.  The twins, if they want to live past Thursday in my home, are going to give us everything we want.” 

Sliding down, Stiles joined Derek’s side, leaning on his Alpha’s arm for support.  The water cascaded over them like rain.  “Everyone’s in danger.  Scott’s mom.  Jackson’s parents.  Deaton.  Danny-  Oh crap.”  Stiles reared his head up, banging it repeatedly against the shower wall.  “Danny’s house is going to reek of Erica and me, we’ve been there every other day since the Jungle.”

Derek yanked Stiles between his legs, embracing the Beta’s shaking form.  “I’ll get them all places to stay a few floors up from here until this is all over.  If anyone wants to get to them, they have to go past our floor.  Anyone we can think of…  We’ll protect.”

“What about the school?  The lacrosse team?  Coach Finstock?”  Stiles’ chest rose and fall, as newfound panic set in. 

Biting his bottom lip, Derek eventually shook his head.  “We’ll have to think of something else.  There’s only so much space in these condominiums, we can’t keep everyone within arm’s reach, but we can’t spread ourselves too thin across the territory.  So long as you’re not there, I have a hard time believing that Deucalion is going to waste time and resources there.  High Alpha or not, he can’t just go and blow his cover as a werewolf to the world.”

Resting on Derek’s chest, Stiles glanced to his right, noticing the intricate tattoo on Derek’s right arm.  Long strands of black-lined ivy and triskelions, with little buds of red dotted throughout the pattern. A symbol that was now very prominent on Stiles’ right arm as well.

“What the-“  Raising his arm up, Stiles tried to wash away the ink, only to realize it was of the permanent variety.

Derek took Stiles’ arm in his own, lining up the ivy-like patterns.  He laid his head on Stiles’ shoulder, blocking the deluge above.  “That’s the mark of the Alpha’s Right Hand.  I wanted you and me to formalize it over dinner with the Pack, but…  Things changed.  You came into that power sooner than I imagined.”

Cocking his head to the side, Stiles turned to meet Derek’s face.  “What’s…  A Right Hand?”

“Deaton can explain later, but-“Derek helped them both up to a standing position.  He collected a shampoo bottle, pouring its contents over Stiles’ hair, and gently massaging it into his Beta’s scalp.  “It means you are there to step in when I fail.  That I trust you with my power when it comes to matters of protecting the pack.  Think of the Mafia.”  He adjusted their position in the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the muck and grime from Stiles’ hair.

Returning the favor, Stiles reached far up, rubbing shampoo into Derek’s hair and beard.  “…is that how I shifted into that…  Gigantic wolf?”

Derek rinsed his hair out, shutting off the shower.  He nodded, stepping out of the shower with Stiles in tow.  “Yes.  You borrowed my status as Alpha and used that power to attain a full shift.  Deaton says there’s a lot of different ways that a Right Hand can use that power, but given the situation-“

“Death to the douchebag twins via gigantic wolfy mouth was the easiest route to go?”  Stiles collected fluffy white towels from the ruined remains of the bathroom counter, tossing one to Derek. 

“So it would seem.”  Derek shook himself dry before wrapping himself up in a towel.

Stiles followed suit, neither caring much for the trail of water they left behind, striding back into Derek’s bedroom. 

Exhaustion struck, as Alpha and Beta tore the comforter away from Derek’s king-sized bed, threw their towels into the laundry basket, and wrapped around each other for warmth.  

Derek grabbed a nearby bed sheet, covering it over them for warmth.  He pulled Stiles closer, his arms wrapped around the Beta’s chest and back, as their legs slowly intertwined with one and other. 

Seeking the Alpha’s human warmth, Stiles forced himself to lay sideways onto Derek’s neck.  He gladly rested his ear on Derek’s artery, as each thump of his Alpha’s heart chipped away at the dread and fear still wracking Stiles’ body.  “I thought you were dead.”

“Me too.”

They continued to press against each other, with little to no gap between their chest, abdomen, or groin.

“I shifted.  Seeing you like that made me shift, made me…  So fucking angry, I thought I was going to explode.”  Stiles growled, digging his claws into Derek’s flesh, just shy of breaking the skin.

“I saw.”  Derek brought his hands down, digging his own claws at the bottom of Stiles’ spine, right above his buttocks. 

Stiles’ fangs popped out.  “I’m still shaking from it.  I keep seeing you in my head…  Dying on the ground, with all that blood.  I-  I couldn’t handle it.  I didn’t want to handle it!  Nobody and I mean fucking **NOBODY** messes with my Pack!” 

“ **Nobody** ,”  Derek grumbled, in an equal rage.

Alpha and Beta stewed in anger.  Minutes passed, turning into hours, as angry growls, possessive holding, and the occasional tear were shared between them.

Only after the anger, the bitterness, the fear, and the shock of the day began to melt away did Stiles’ higher brain function return.  Only then did he realize and take in the situation before him.

The very naked, raw, girthy situation between them.

A situation Derek seemed to realize as well, as their eyes met.

Turning away from one and other, they dug their angry, possessive claws away from each other.  Stiles’ entire body flushed a bright red, while Derek scrambled out of bed, throwing on a pair of undergarments and tossing a spare pair to Stiles.

“Derek?”  Stiles muttered as he added a shred of modesty to his body.

“Yeah?”

“We just totally took a shower together.”  Stiles rifled through Derek’s drawers, collecting a university shirt and covering himself in it. 

“We did.”

“We were naked in bed.  Like, very naked in bed with each other.  Things touched.”  Stiles threw Derek a shirt, giving the Alpha a moment to clothe himself.

“We were.”

Derek sat on the leftmost edge of the bed.  Stiles sat on the right.  Their backs turned to each other.  At that moment, heart racing, Stiles could remember his feelings from that morning, if only briefly, what happiness had felt like.

“You know.”  Stiles clasped his hands together.  “When we danced last week, I felt…  Something.”

“Me too.”  Derek slid onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle.

Stiles followed suit, leaving a tinier gap between them.  “When I first met you, and after everything we through with Scott, Kate, and Peter, I-  I honestly thought you were a psycho.  Biting Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd made me thought you were starting some kind of wolfy cult, about to enslave the city.  Truth be told, I thought you were a threat.  You scared the shit out of me.”

Derek dropped his head.  “I’m sorry.”

Stiles leaned back, resting his back on Derek’s.  “Don’t be.  If it weren’t for you, I would have lost Scott.  I would have never gotten my family.”  He reached back, letting his hand travel far enough to fall atop Derek’s.  “I got to know you.  I learned so much about you, and why you did everything you did.  I learned you could be compassionate, giving lives back to everyone in the Pack, so they could move forward.  I understood why you chose the broken ones to bite.  You chose them because the bite was a gift, a chance at a second life.  Just like becoming Alpha was a second chance for you.”  He grinned.  “I learned…  You were funny.  Sarcastic.  Serious.  Loving.  You weren’t the big bad wolf I had you pegged for.  All of that was just a really thick skin you’d had to wear all these years.  I understand you, and…  I think you’re pretty damn strong.” 

 “Thank you.”  Derek smiled.  He turned around, guiding Stiles to sit across from him, their knees touching each other, as Alpha and Beta held hands.  The little blush across Derek’s face was enough for Stiles.

Sighing, Stiles shook his head.  “Be upfront with me.  I just trusted you enough to see me naked, clean me, and then fall into bed with you, without any kind of sexual undertone or expectation of headboard smashing sex.  I don’t think I’ve ever so explicitly trusted someone this much in my life, so I am very much hoping this the werewolf mating thing.  Because if I’m misreading these signals, I’m probably going to be crushed in the next couple of minutes.” 

“It is.”  Derek’s grin grew.

Stiles rose an eyebrow.  “So…  We mate for life.  This feeling I’ve got, this-  Bond?  Is this for life?” 

Derek’s eyes flashed red.  He reached out, cupping Stiles’ cheek.  “You have a choice.  You always have a choice.  We don’t have to do anything with this if you don’t want to.  Nothing, and I mean nothing is set in stone.”  The Alpha’s hand trembled.

Stiles reached out to steady Derek’s hand.  “Look at that.  You can say more than two words.”

Derek bit his bottom lip.  His grin transformed into a cocky, side-eyed smile.  “You leave me speechless.”

Stiles’ heart swooned, accompanied by a belly-full of laughter.  Everything around him seemed brighter, happier.  Someone wanted him, romantically.  Someone wanted him as a friend, as an ally, as a Right Hand–

Darkness overtook the room.  Sties’ smile faded.  He looked down at the tattoo on his right arm, and the specks of red that dotted its design.  His nose caught the faint scent of blood from the bathroom, and he broke all contact with Derek.

“Stiles?”

Curling into a ball on the edge of the bed, Stiles slammed his eyes shut.  “Derek, everyone is in danger because of me.  The Twins attacked you because they wanted me.  Ennis could have killed anyone in the pack because he was trying to taunt me.”  He shook his head, so angry with himself, at the situation, and at his “Alpha Pack.”  “This…  Stupid doucheface Duewhateveryousay wouldn’t be threatening all of you if it weren’t for me.”  Scrambling out of bed, Stiles paced the room, claws digging into the soft skin of his inner palms.  “Maybe.  Maybe I’m better off leaving.  Giving myself in.  Let him take whatever he wants, and then he’ll-“

Derek was at Stiles’ side in a split second, pulling his Beta’s claws out.  He shook his head, eyes blazing red as he growled in Stiles’ direction.  “-if Scott, or Isaac, or anyone of us suggested letting themselves get killed so everyone else could live, would you let them?  Did we not just agree that **NOBODY** messes with our Pack?”

Stiles yanked his hands away from Derek, eyes flashing gold as he growled right back.  “This is different, Derek, this isn’t some metaphorical threat, this is an honest-to-god -“

“No, it’s not!”  Derek slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a crater behind.  “My Pack isn’t about the lives of everyone outweighing the lives of one.  We’re a unit.  No, fuck that, we’re a family, Stiles.  We’re the family we all wanted to have in our everyday lives but never had a chance to have.  Nobody in this family is about to throw their lives away!”

“One for all, and all for one, huh?”  Stiles shook his head, scoffing.  “That’s great in theory, Derek, but…  This is real life.  This isn’t a fairytale.  At the end of the day, little red is being stalked by a monster, and grandma is going to die unless little red does something about it.  Unfortunately, I don’t have a basket of cookies that Duedouchebag is going to want, except myself!”

Calming himself, Derek extinguished his eyes.  He strode forward, planting both hands on Stiles’ shoulders.  “Little red isn’t alone.  She doesn’t have to fight the monster by herself.”

“What if little red doesn’t want to see people die around her?  What if she’d rather die herself if it meant keeping grandma and all her friends safe?”  Stiles let the tears fall.  The pain in Stiles’ stomach, the oncoming wave of nausea, and the anxiety that permeated his entire body, slowly but surely, was absorbed by Derek’s arms, as black veins protruded from the Alpha’s skin.  As quickly as Stiles could panic, Derek was there to take it all away.

“Then little red is selfish.”  Derek smiled, choking back his own set of tears.  “Because she’s leaving behind people that love her, and-  Nobody would want to live in a world without little red.”

Stiles chuckled through the tears.  He reached out, planting his hand on Derek’s chest.  Within seconds, black veins appeared, as Stiles whisked away from his Alpha’s own stomach pain, anxiety, and fear.  “I hate metaphors.  They always come to bite me in the ass.”  He muttered as Alpha and Beta took each other’s pain in unison, before finally calming themselves down. 

The black veins faded, as Derek and Stiles stood in the middle of the room.

“Then let me say it plainly,” Derek said, sweeping Stiles up and planting him in the middle of the bed.  He joined his Beta’s side, clasping Stiles’ hand within his own.  “Nobody in this pack is going to want you to die for us.  We’re not going to let that happen.  We-”  He paused, biting the bottom of his lip.  “We love you, Stiles.”

“I-“  Stiles took a deep breath, unable to break contact with Derek’s gaze.  “Love you guys, too.”

Derek leaned forward.

Stiles leaned forward.

Derek tilted his head.

Stiles tilted his head.

The bridge of their noses braised each other. 

Flesh from their lips pressed together.

Their chests left little of a gap between them.

Abdomens touched.

The soft outlining in their undergarments touched, sending a shockwave down their spines.

“Mmm.”

“Mmm.”

They kissed, silently and sweetly, arms wrapped around each other.

“Pardon the interruption, but-“  Sheriff Stilinksi stood in the doorway, unhinging a claw from the now lockpicked doorknob.

Stiles shrieked, slamming his head against the headboard.  “Dad?!  What the fuck!?”

Derek sat in slack-jawed horror, yanking a blanket to cover his fully-clothed body.  “Sh-  Sheriff, I-“

Noah rolled his eyes, striding into the bedroom.  “Could I have a moment with my son?  We need to have a talk.”  

Nodding absentmindedly, Derek hopped out of bed.  He folded his arms, physically hurting to leave his mate’s side.  “If-  If you need me, yell.  I’ll be in the kitchen.”  Derek exited the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, leaving father and son in peace.

An awkward silence filled the room.  Noah sat on the edge of Derek’s desk, picking at the fresh change of clothes that smelled of Scott, with a waft of body product that came from Isaac’s bathroom.  “So.  You and Hale?  Can’t say I saw that coming.  Always figured you’d still be after that Martin girl.” 

“Yeah.”  Stiles sat cross-legged, curling into a ball.  He glanced up, focused on his father’s crystal-blue glowing eyes.  “Derek’s my mate.  We had a big moment there.”

Noah nodded.  “Then, I suppose I shouldn’t get involved between you two.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”  Stiles gestured to the bed.  “Especially not right before…  You know?”

“Sorry.  I tried knocking, but I guess neither of you could hear me.  I assumed you were sleeping, but…”  Noah scratched at the back of his neck.  He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Derek’s bed.  “You’ve been living here for a while, huh?  I can smell you everywhere.”

“Nice of you to notice,”  Stiles muttered, crossing his arms.

Noah sighed.  “Alright, let’s cut the shit, I’m no good at this.  You’re angry, and I get it.  You deserve to be angry.  I’m sure you’ve got questions.  Ask them.  That’s what I’m here for.”

Stiles nodded, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging onto it for support.  “You and mom were werewolves?  Seriously, dad, what the fuck?”

“We were both born as werewolves, yes.”  Noah paused.  “I was part of a northern tribe, your mother was a member of a western tribe.  We met on Pack business and fell in love.  Your mother came to live with me, and eventually, we had you.”

“Then…  How did I-" Stiles took stock of his human hands.  Not a few months ago, he wouldn’t’ have been able to pull claws out of his fingertips.

“Human offspring isn’t unheard of.  Rare, but not unheard of.”  Noah dropped his head, claws sawing absentmindedly into Derek’s desk.  “We wanted to offer you the bite when the time was right.  With you being our child, the bite would always be a success, so it was more a choice than anything.  Things just never worked out that way, unfortunately.”

Stiles stood up, arms folded, facing the wall.  “Why these people are after me?  Apparently, they want my eyes?  What is that all about?”

“Apparently, one of the twins gave a cliff notes version to Derek.”  Noah strode across the room, pacing back and forth.  “About ten years ago, your mother and I angered Duke.  Angry enough that he wanted to kill his own-” Noah stopped, shaking his head.  “Doesn’t matter, it’s a long story.  All you need to know is that your mother and I fought back against Duke.  In that process, she ascended as a True Alpha and was able to beat him, by blinding him.  When she did, she took away the powers of 10,000 Alphas that Duke had stolen over his lifetime.  We…  Let him live.  We’d hoped he would have gone back to the way he used to be but- As you can imagine, losing that kind of power…  It changes people.” 

Stiles’ jaw dropped.  This “Deucalion” had killed and assimilated the power of 10,000 Alphas?  Yet, this “True Alpha” was stronger than that?  He turned, trying to make eye contact with his father.  Stiles couldn’t hear a lie in his father’s heart. 

Noah stopped pacing, plopping down on the edge of Derek’s bed.  He slouched, hiding his face in his hands.  “We couldn’t get you involved in our past mistakes.  Your mother and I hid the truth and lived as humans in a small town.  Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Wait…  How’d you become human?”  Stiles joined his father’s side.  He saw the many wrinkles crossing his father’s face, each a deep, weary reminder.  “Derek and Deaton both told Scott there wasn’t a cure.”

“There isn’t.”  Noah reached into the pockets of his pajama pants, producing a clear vial of purple petals.  “My connections kept us all safe from being found out by normal means, and the Internet wasn’t what it was today, but our scents would be our downfall.  Wolfsbane was the only option.  Poisonous to humans, but for werewolves, taking enough of it slowly rips the wolf out of you, making you weaker and weaker until you’re indistinguishable from a human.  Of course, when you become like a human you have human weaknesses that the poison exacerbates.”  He tossed the vial into the nearest trash-can, raising a hand up to his heart.  “High blood pressure.  High cholesterol.  Inebriation…  Poor lifestyle choices...  Clinical Depression.”  Noah slammed his eyes shut.  “-and…  Dementia.  Swelling of the brain.  Stroke.  Cancer.  You name it.”

Realization struck Stiles, as a wave of cold numbness crossed his entire body.  His mother’s death hadn’t been an inherited genetic disorder.  No, it’d been self-inflicted.  For Stiles’ behalf.  “Mom died from it.” 

Noah nodded.

A new fear crawled through Stiles’ stomach.  “Are you-“  He stared at his father’s heart.  A heart that had been the thing of every doctor’s worst nightmares.  The endless string of healthy eating having no impact suddenly made much more sense.

Noah shrugged.  “I tried to space it out long enough for you to graduate and get through college.  Maybe linger on a few years after that, make sure you’ve got a job, maybe had some kind of support system to fall back on, and leave you my pension.  I should be able to retire in a few years and live off the grid, saving up for you as much as I can.  That was the plan, at least.”

Stiles felt his heart pierced as if by a dull knife, sawing back and forth.  A decade of drunken buffoonery.  Years of hating this man, for everything he’d made Stiles put up with.

All of it was a lie.

“God, don’t give me that look.”  Noah rubbed his face, growling under his breath.  “For God’s sake, I made you care for me like I was a goddamn toddler.  Even drunk on the wolfsbane, there’s so much I could have done, but I didn’t.  Because I didn’t want to.  Losing my mate destroyed me, and knowing that Duke was around the corner made me give up on life.  Do not blame yourself, because this was my choice.”

With those words, sympathy gave way to anger.

“Then you should have told me.”  Stiles shot up, eyes blazing to life.  “Why?  Why lie to me?  You think I want this?  You think I want my dad killing himself for my sake?!  You think I like knowing my mom died like she did, for my sake?!  Fuck you both!  I deserved to know!”

Noah shot up, eyes burning a fearsome blue.  “This coming from the mouth of someone who just offered himself up on a platter to Duke in exchange for his pack?  Huh, **Little Red**?  You think I like hearing my son wants to kill himself for the mistakes I made?!”

Growls echoed between father and son.  Claws were out, hovering at their sides, trembling.

As the first to back down, Noah sighed, turning away.  “Sorry, I-  I’m going into withdrawal.  I need to get to bed, soon.  I’ll get with Deaton in the morning.  See if there’s anything he can do for me.”  He walked to the edge of the room, hand hovering over the doorknob.  “Stiles, I wanted you to have a normal life.  Your mother and I never wanted you to suffer for our sins.  Unfortunately, neither of us got what we wanted.  You’re going to live an extraordinary life from now, and you get to be the target of Duke’s insane lust for your mother’s power unless he is stopped.”  Noah’s eyes extinguished themselves.  “Both of us failed.”

Stiles fell backward, seating himself on the bed.  “Can we win this?”

“I don’t know.”  Noah gripped the doorknob.  “Duke is a shadow of his former self, but even as a shadow, he is the most powerful werewolf on the continent.  A few minutes of sight with his full power could be enough to cut every one of us down.  I have no idea how many Alpha’s he’s killed, trying to reclaim his lost power.”  He turned the knob, opening the door, hovering at the exit.  “Though, if your mother has shown us anything, power does not equal strength.  Claudia stopped Duke at the height of his power, at a time when he could have very well become King of the Alphas across the globe.  10,000 Alphas murdered for that power.  Hell, at that time, he might as well have been the God of the Alphas.”  A wide smile crossed Noah’s face.  “Yet, a mother stopped him.  Head chef of a mom and pop diner, with no combat experience.  The kindest, most docile woman I’d ever met in my life…  Blinding and destroying a God by becoming a Goddess herself.”

Stiles held a vision of his mother.  Her pale, freckled skin, dotted with moles.  Long, curly hair, down to her waistline.  Bedtime stories.  Baking cookies or cooking dinner together.  Her laughter.  Her tears.  The good times, and the bad.

A little flame grew in Stiles’ chest, with a crackle of cherry-red that bloomed at his eyes, if only for a moment.

“Anything is possible, Stiles.”  Noah smiled, catching sight of his son’s eyes.  “Get some rest.  Don’t be afraid to love your mate, and don’t even think about throwing your life away.  Knowing Duke, we have until the next full moon before he strikes.  He’ll want every advantage, and the full moon brings the power of werewolves to their peak.  If he wants you to become a True Alpha, like your mother, then that is the best time for it.”

Noah took a single step out of the door.

“You call him Duke,”  Stiles muttered.

Noah froze.  “Yeah?”

“You call everyone by their last name.  Bugs the hell out of me, to be honest.  I guess you picked it up working in law enforcement for so long.”  Stiles dug his claws into the bedsheets.  “Thing is…  You don’t do that with me, Scott, or Melissa.  You don’t do that with family.  You use nicknames or our first names.”

“-and?”  Noah muttered.

“Mom didn’t kill him.  You didn’t kill him.  You said you both wanted him back to the way he used to be.”  Stiles rose his head, eyes dead on straight with Noah’s.  “You wouldn’t do that for a stranger or some random psychopath.”

Noah turned away from Stiles, unable to face him, eye-to-eye.  “You’d make a good detective.”

“Dad-“

Noah shook his head.  “After Duke is dead, we’ll talk about it.  There are some things about my past I don’t like to bring up.  My relationship with Duke is one of them.”  Taking a deep breath, Noah left the room. 

“Not everyone going down a dark path like Scott is so lucky to have a friend like you, Stiles.”


	12. One for a Brother

The Hale Pack gathered in their living room, with Deaton, Aiden, Ethan, Allison, and Lydia joining their ranks.  While Noah and Derek caught the group up to speed, Stiles busied himself in the kitchen, handing out coffee, tea, and warm food to anyone with an appetite. 

Stiles sat beside Derek, handing his Alpha another warm cup of black coffee, as Noah finished his explanation of the Alpha Pack, Stiles being a target, and the coming battle ahead.

Noah sat an empty mug of coffee to the side as the sun leveled itself high in the sky, hours after they’d gathered.  “-so that’s about it.  Any questions?”

The Pack sat in stunned silence, as Isaac awkwardly held his hand in the air.

“This isn’t school Lahey, spit it out,”  Noah grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Isaac blushed, quickly ducking his head from the Sherriff.  “Right-  Sorry…  Uh, to be honest, I’m a little confused about Stiles.  They want his eyes because he **could** be a True Alpha, not because he is one already?  What’s the deal with that?”

“I’m curious about that as well.”  Deaton sat an empty cup of tea before him, scratching at the stubble of his beard.  “The power of a True Alpha isn’t genetic, so Stiles shouldn’t be any more predisposed to it than any other wolf in history.  Of course, that theory goes out of the window, considering Stiles was born years before Claudia ascending, and a born a human, no less.  So I’m curious as to why Deucalion is targeting him.  The man is clearly insane, but he’s no fool, and wouldn’t have risked all of this if there wasn’t an endgame at hand.”

Noah shrugged, shaking his head.  He let out a deep sigh.  “Wish I could tell you more.  Claudia had her powers for only about a month before we were both deep in the wolfsbane.  In that time, all I can tell you is that Duke has a good reason for seeking it out.  That kind of power would have made my wife a High Alpha of any country in a heartbeat.  Hell, even Duke called her a Goddess at one point.”

Erica ran hands through her hair, letting out an aggravated growl.  “Forget Stiles!  Forget WHY they’re coming here, none of that’s important!  We should be worrying about an Army of those fucking freaks!”  Her head rose, revealing a pair of burning golden eyes.  “I stabbed Mr. Muscle about a hundred times, and he walked that shit off!  How?!  How does somebody do that?!”

“The Alpha Pack comes with years of training on how to block out pain and amplify your healing abilities.  Slaughtering Betas for their power makes that much simpler.”  Walking into the kitchen to refill his mug of coffee, Noah strode back into the living room, patting Aiden and Ethan on the shoulders.  “As for our numbers, I had a lovely evening with the Steiner twins.  They’ve caught me up on the inner workings of the Alpha Pack, and I believe we have little to worry about in the way of numbers.  If anything, we should be on a mostly even playing field.”

Ethan and Aiden shuddered under Noah’s hands.

Gulping, Ethan was the first to speak.  “Deucalion has a lot of Alphas, but he’s not going to use them all.  They’re scattered all over the country, keeping certain areas secured.  In fact, most of them are just sent out on missions to steal the power of other Alphas, build themselves up until they’re as strong as Ennis and Kali, to-“ 

As Ethan paused, Aiden rolled his eyes.  “They’re livestock.  When Deucalion needs a new pair of eyes, he’s got plenty to choose from.  Sometimes they’re lucky and become someone like Ennis.  Others are given a heaping of Omegas used to help breed a herd of Betas to kill off and get stronger.  Or sometimes, they’re Kali’s plaything for a few months until she gets bored of her newly shaped “toy” and trades it in for something different.”  He chortled, shaking his head.  “Deucalion isn’t going to trust any of the livestock to be within 100 feet of a True Alpha, because he’s not about to let them have a chance to steal it for themselves.  Just the inner circle, if even that.”

Derek folded his arms, glaring at the twins with a pair of crimson eyes.  “I hear the truth in your words.  You’re saying that we’re going to be a Pack against Kali, Deucalion, and maybe a handful of their most trustworthy Alphas.  Not the Alpha Pack army of legend.”

“That’s right,”  Noah said, nodding along.  He sipped his coffee.  “Though that’s not an automatic victory for us.  Duke has the power of a thousand Alphas, and even if he can only use it for a couple of minutes, he could wipe us all out in an instant.  Kali, from what I’ve gathered from the twins, is as strong, if not stronger than Ennis.  So, as Erica feared, most of you don’t have a chance against him.”

Multiple heads dropped.  The stench of defeat wafted throughout the room, like a putrid mold.

Stiles balled his hands into fists.  He rose, staring at everyone in the room.  This was his only chance to get them out of harm’s way, come hell or high water.  “Then most of us need to be running.  Getting out of Beacon Hills, until this blows over.”  Clutching his chest, Stiles gestured to the rest of the group.  “This is a Stilinksi thing, not a Hale Pack thing.  This is all because of my family and our past mistakes.  I don’t want you guys fighting and dying over this!  So I think we need to split up.  Have Erica and Scott take our friends and family and run as far away as they can!”

“That won’t work.”  Noah shook his head.  He stopped at Stiles’ side, grasping the young man’s shoulder.  “We need the numbers.  That is our one and only advantage in this situation.”

“Fuck that!”  Stiles slapped his father’s hand away.  “Fuck the advantage, dad, this is my family I’m talking about!  I’m not about to let them be lambs to the slaughter just to save my own skin!”

Noah glanced away.  “You’re assuming they could escape and live a new life.  You shouldn’t assume that.”  He leaned against a wall, folding his arms.  “Duke has no intention of letting anyone close to us live, Stiles.  This is a personal vendetta, of little more than spite.  We fight, or we die.  There’s no more hiding for any of us.” 

A frigid cold ran down Stiles’ spine.  He collapsed onto the couch, resting next to Derek once more.  The Alpha rested his arm around Stiles’ shoulder.

Silence filled the room once more, as the thick scent of fear clogged more than once nose.

“They have to try, dad.”  Stiles shook his head, tears gathering at the edge of his eyes.  “Or I should-“

“ **Running won’t solve anything.  We have to kill him.** ”

All eyes zeroed in on Scott.  His usually soft tone betrayed the pair of burning golden eyes, and claws jutting out of his fingertips.  Allison, especially, watched her former love with her jaw agape.

“I don’t like it any better than the rest of you, but-“ Scott stood, greeting the rest of the pack’s eyes.  “You heard what Sheriff Stilinksi said.  We’re not getting away from this.”

“You don’t know that!”  Stiles screamed, standing up and standing face-to-face with Scott. 

Scott bared his fangs.  “Do we run then?  Do we always ditch our Pack when the times get rough?  What about our families?   Our friends?  The school?  Do you think an entire town can just run away, Stiles?  That would never work!”

Trembling in a mixture of fear and anger, Stiles growled in his brother’s direction.  “Scott-  You can’t fight this!“

Scott turned away from Stiles, now focused on the Pack as a whole.  They all gave the Beta his undivided attention. “Besides, hasn’t Stiles already been there for us when we needed him most?  Don’t you think it’s time we repaid the favor?”

**“This isn’t’ the same, Scott!”**

**“To me it is!”** Scott slammed a fist into the wall, shaking the foundation.  “I owe you my life, Stiles.  So I’m not backing away from this.  I’ll do whatever we need to do.  If the others want to run, they can, but I’m sticking with you!”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, silenced as he watched Isaac stand up with hands in his pockets.  The Beta fidgeted, shaking his head.  “I’m scared.  Not going to lie, I’m-  I’m terrified.”  His head dropped, biting at his bottom lip.  “I don’t know what I can do to help.  I know I’m a weakling, and I’m not much better than cannon fodder.”  A gentle smile crossed Isaac’s face as he gazed into Stiles’ eyes.   “But-  I’m not running.  Not this time.  I’ve run away from everything else in my life.  I’ve hidden, to stay safe, but the thing is-  I don’t want to hide for the rest of my life.  Hiding is…  Painful, in its own way.”

“Isaac-“  Stiles murmured.

“Train me on how to kill these motherfuckers, and I’m on board.”  Erica glared at Sheriff Stilinksi with a pair of burning eyes.  She stood, prodding her polished fingernail into Noah’s chest.  “I’m not going to sit here and do nothing.  Never again, you hear me, old man?  So either put up or shut up!”

Noah smirked, nodding to Erica’s request.

“Erica!”  Stiles yelled.

Boyd sighed, leaning back against the couch.  “I need to hit the gym.  Life sucks sometimes.”

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, silenced as Jackson stood with the rest of the Betas, smirking as usual.

Jackson crossed his legs, scoffing.  “Don’t think I’m doing this for you, Bitchwitski.  There are people here I want to protect.”  He glanced away.  “People I love.”

“Jax…”  Stiles clutched his stomach, fighting away a set of burning tears.

Warm arms wrapped around Stiles.  Derek pulled his mate closer, resting his chin on Stiles’ head.  “You don’t have to do this alone, Stiles.  Remember what I told you last night?  We’re all going to fight through this, together.  We’ll make it.”  He kissed Stiles on the forehead, flicking the Beta on his nose.

“Ow!”  Stiles shouted.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Now shut up while we save your punk ass.”

 “Asshole!”  Stiles yelled, glaring towards Derek.  He turned, meeting the rest of the Pack’s confident eyes, only to drop his head soon after.  How could he meet their eyes, face to face, when he was essentially sending them all to an early grave?  “You guys-  You don’t-“ 

Noah sighed, stepping in between the group, and silencing his son.  “What about you two?”  He glared to the Steiner twins, whom shuddered under the Sheriff’s gaze.  “Way I see it, you’ve got three options.  Either I throw you to the hunters to be put in a cage, the Alpha Pack finds you, or you join our ranks and fight for your freedom.”

The Pack went silent once more, as an overwhelming growl emanated from Stiles and Derek.  Both twins huddled out of fear of the Hale Alpha and his Right Hand.

“Down, boys.”  Noah waved Derek and Stiles off.  He focused on Aiden and Ethan.  “Don’t think all is forgiven, boys.  I talked things over with Hale.  We’ve decided not to kill you two, given the valuable information you’ve shared with us.”

Derek strode to the twins, hovering above them with Noah.  His eyes burned a hole, straight into their very souls.  Neither twin could bear the sight, ducking their heads from the sheer ferocity.  “You have more experience fighting Alphas than anyone else here.  As much as it kills me, we need you both, and you need us if you’re going to live through this.  Help us, and I will consider letting you out of our basement for good.“  He dug claws deep into his arms.  “But let me be clear.  Touch me, my mate, or anyone in this pack again, and there will be no mercy.”

The twins exchanged a single glance.  Ethan palmed his hand on Aiden’s knee, clutching it.  Aiden nodded.

“We don’t have a choice,”  Ethan muttered.  “We fight for you, Alpha Hale.”

Aiden glanced up, staring past Derek and towards Stiles.  “-and we fight for Hale’s Right Hand, who was the first person to ever show us mercy in this life.”  Ethan, too, bowed his head in Stiles’ direction.

Stiles rolled his eyes, presenting them both with his favorite finger.  “Fuck you both.  Hard.  Actually, why don’t you both go fuck each other, in various positions?”  He growled, flashing a pair of golden eyes.  “Next time you fuck up, Derek’s not going to stop me from having a twin sandwich.”

Aiden and Ethan cringed, cowering from Stiles as much as they had from Derek.

Noah clapped his hands together.  “Good.  Now that we’ve established our fighting force, next comes the plan of attack.  Argent?  Any words from your Pop?”

Allison nodded, standing up and waving a smartphone in the air.  “Mom and Grandpa are tracking Deucalion and Kali right now, with a team of their best, hoping to track them to wherever they’re going.  Meanwhile, Dad is flying everywhere, trying to gather best Hunters and Huntresses from across the country.”  She bit her lip, as her other hand gently grazed the holster of one of her guns.  “Even if we’re just a distraction, the Argent Clan is not going to let Deucalion do as he pleases anymore.  He’s a threat to everyone in our world, Hunter, Werewolf, Banshee, Vampire, all of us.  And-“  She glanced upwards, to Derek.  “While my family doesn’t feel the same as I do, the Argent Clan owes you a lifelong debt, Derek.  After what my Aunt did to your family…  I’m fighting, too.  For his Pack, and not for my Clan.  Whatever I can do for your plans, count me in.”

Derek turned away from Allison, re-filling his mug of coffee.  “-whatever you want, Argent.”  His hand gripped the cup tightly, forming a crack along its edges.

Stiles, wholly composed, turned to face his father.  “So, what’s the next step?  How do we defeat this guy?  **Assuming** we can defeat this guy.”

Noah shook his head.  “That’s the wrong frame of mind.  Our goal is not to defeat Deucalion with power alone.  We’ll lose that fight a thousand times over, no matter how many people are fighting for us.”  He pointed to each of the Betas, to Stiles, to Allison, and finally, to Derek.  “We need to outlast him.  Make him burn through his eyes, leave him in a weakened state, and then fight him when he’s down on power, and ensure he can’t replace his eyes on the fly.  We can win THAT fight.”

Ethan rose his hand.  “Duke can last about 5 minutes on a pair of his livestock eyes if he’s using them sparingly.  He’ll have full sight and full reign of his Alpha powers.  I’ve only seen him do it once, and it was-  Terrifying.”

“Which means, all of you are going to be trained on how to last that five minutes and come out the other side, alive,”  Noah said, before prodding Derek’s chest.  “Hale, you’re with me.  There’s plenty you need to learn if you plan on going toe to toe with any of the Alpha Pack.  I’m going to teach you how to do what I did to Ennis.”  He turned, nodding to his son.  “Stiles, you’re going to train with Deaton and an old friend of mine on how to channel your abilities as a Right Hand.  Reyes will join you.”

“Me?”  Erica pointed to herself.  “Why me?”

“Erica-“  Derek strode to his Beta, planting a firm hand on her shoulder.  “In the last fight, you proved yourself as the one in the pack who’s willing to do anything to protect us.  Even if that means violence, and even if it means taking the life of another.  You acted in a way that others couldn’t.”  He smiled.  “I want you to become my Left Hand.  Deaton will help us make that possible.”

“You want me-“  Erica paused, shaking her head.  “What does that mean, exactly?”

“For one, you and Stiles are the protectors of the pack if I’m not available.  More importantly, though, like Stiles, you can take my powers and use it as your own.  Essentially you can become an Alpha for a short time.”  He grinned, turning to smile at his mate.  “-and thanks to Stiles siphoning away energy the twins, I’ve got more than enough strength for the both of you.”  Turning back, he offered Erica a gentle smile.  “-and I trust that you won’t abuse this power.  Hearing you and Stiles working with Danny, and seeing you in the last few months…  I now know you’re going down the right path.”

Erica dropped her head.  She then promptly punched Derek in the gut, earning an “oof” from their Alpha.  “I won’t let you down.  I won’t let any of you down.”  As she rose her head, her golden eyes were covered in mist.

“Very touching,”  Noah added, snarkily.  He smacked both of the twins on the shoulder.  “Ethan and Aiden twins will train the rest of the Betas.  They have plenty of experience in the Alpha Pack, and you’re all going through boot camp.  Cancel plans for the next month.  Including school.”  He paused, sighting as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “We’ll need to break a few water lines, cut the electric cord, and make sure school won’t be in session for a month, at least.  We don’t want to give the Alpha Pack any additional targets.”

Boyd stepped forward.  “This is great and all, but-”  He paused as all eyes turned on him, ducking his head.  “-they’re going to be two moves ahead of us.  They know where we live.  Where we sleep.  Even if they’re attacking during the full moon, like Sheriff Stilinksi says, how do we know the exact when or where?  They could sneak up on us and take us all down, even if we’re all trained and ready.”

“I can deal with that.”

The room’s eyes focused intently on Lydia, re-applying a fresh layer of blush on her face.  Still staring into her compact mirror, she smiled, taking time to freshen up her hair’s bounce in the front.

“You?”  Derek rose an eyebrow, chuckling.

Lydia laughed, putting away the makeup in her designer handbag.  “Believe it or not, I’ve been training with the Argents.  I’ve been on Skype with other banshees across the country, and learning how to sense the time of someone’s death.” 

“How useful to us in this situation.  We could use a death alarm clock.  I’ve always wanted to know when I’ll die.”  Derek countered.

Rolling her eyes, Lydia stood up, walked over to the Alpha, standing up at just above Derke’s midsection.  She prodded him in the chest.  “When I say I can sense death, blowhard, I mean I can sense death coming before it actually arrives.  How do you think I knew about you and Stiles getting torn to shreds at Deaton’s place, and then directed the cavalry to the forest you guys had run off to?  Because, believe it or not, there was a genuine chance you two could have died there.  I felt it, a dozen times over.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak, only to quickly shut it after locking eyes with Lydia’s stern glare. 

“I can pinpoint almost exactly where someone’s death is going to happen, about half an hour before it’s going to happen **if** it actually happens, as Death is not always so precise.  So, when the time comes-“  Lydia rose a pink, floral-covered smartphone from her pocket, jingling it in Derek’s face.  “As long as you have a cell phone, I can give you guys a fighting chance.  Though, unless you’re all stupid, we should probably be grouped together well before the full moon!”

“How-“ Derek took several steps backward from the petit banshee.  “Handy.”

“Fear her, Derek.”  Scott leaned in, whispering loud enough for the group to hear.

Natural smiles and laughter lit up the room for the first time that morning.

Noah laughed, shaking his head.  “We start tomorrow.  All of you rest up, eat well, and get to bed early.  I have some calls to make but in the meantime…  Enjoy your free time.”  His smile faded, as he turned away from the children’s smiling faces, realizing none of them had heard a word he’s said.  A painful pang settled in Noah’s stomach. 

Yet, as he saw his son settle closer to Derek, watched Scott arguing with some of the other Betas, and Lydia continue to posture in front of Derek, Noah’s smile returned.   _“You kids…  Remind me so much of what we used to be.”_ Noah shut his eyes.  “ _Before Duke and I screwed everything up.”_

 

+++++

 

The Pack dispersed after the strategy meeting.  Some, like Jackson, went to collect their friends and family, to move them into the rest of the condos Derek had outright purchased from the owners.  Others, Like Erica, Allison, and Boyd, took a head start on their training, hitting the gym.  Isaac went to snooze on the nearest couch.

In the little spare time left to him, Stiles enlisted Scott’s help in moving.  Out of their shared bedroom, and into Derek’s room. 

Scott lugged the last box of Stiles’ belongings, dropping it onto Derek’s bed.  “So.  You and Derek, huh?”  He asked, both eyebrows raised.

Stiles flinched, nodding.  “Yeah.  I almost feel like I should apologize to you, after everything we’ve been through with him.”  He eventually shrugged, sighing.  “Trust me when I say it didn’t happen overnight.  I don’t even know what all it means, yet.  We’ve both got other things to be worrying about right now, but in the meantime-“ He paused.  “I have to admit something’s there, Scott.  Something I want to explore, and if we’re all about to face this huge enemy, I-  I don’t want to leave this life without any regrets.”

Scott folded his arms, eyeing Stiles up and down.  His pout, slowly but surely, turned into a tiny grin.  “Can’t say it’s a pretty mental picture, but I think picturing you naked with anyone would be nightmare fuel.”

“Dick.”  Stiles slugged Scott in the shoulder, as they both laughed in unison.

As the laughter faded, so did Stiles’ smile.  He busied himself, hanging up clothes in Derek’s closet.  “I wish you would take your mom and run away.  At least if the two of you made it, I could live with myself.” 

Scott sighed, resting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders.  He shook his friend, chuckling.  “I wish you would let me try and protect you.”  He brought his face within inches of Stiles’, golden eyes glaring right through him.  “You’re my brother, Stiles.  Nowadays, I feel that pull stronger than ever, so if you think I’m letting you do this by yourself, you’re dead wrong.”  He bonked his head against Stiles’ forehead.

Stiles pulled himself away, walking away from Scott.  “You and Melissa were the only family I had for a long time.  When dad wasn’t there for me, you guys were.  Melissa’s a mom to me, Scott,“  Tears gathered in Stiles’ eyes.  “I can’t lose anyone else, Scott.”

“What exactly happened to you in that clinic?”  Scott reached out, grabbing Stiles’ hand.  “Noah won’t talk about it.  You won’t talk about it.  Derek sure as hell isn’t talking about it.  You have always been my backbone.  You’ve always been everyone’s backbone!  Now’s not the time to turn tail and run!”

Reaching down, Stiles clutched at his stomach.  Aiden’s laughter rang in his head, loud and overbearing.  Derek’s cries echoed in the back of his mind, sending bile straight up his throat.  “Nothing’s changed, Scott!  Things are just more serious!  Lives are at stake!  We’re not a couple of kids trying to sneak into the dance behind Finstock’s back!  We’re trying to protect our town, our friends, and our family!  From a deadly Alpha who’s killed a thousand other deadly Alphas!  We could lose people, Scott!”

“You don’t know we’re going to lose anyone,”  Scott growled.

“You don’t know that we’re going to keep everyone,”  Stiles snapped, already in a partial shift.

The brothers were inches away from each other, pushing their shoulders against each other.

Scott, moments later, backed away.  His growling stopped, replaced by a warm smile.  “Sounds like neither of us knows a whole lot.  Maybe we should just let it play itself out and see what happens.” 

Stiles calmed himself, taking a deep breath, brushing past Scott, and plopping down on his and Derek’s bed.  He laid against a pillow, slamming his eyes shut.  “You don’t get it.  None of you get it.”

“At least you’ve found your shift.  We were all taking bets on when you’d find it.”  Scott sat himself down on Derek’s side of the bed, lounging beside his friend.    He grinned, ear to ear, prodding Stiles in the side.  “I won, by the way.  $200 bucks.”

Huffing, Stiles buried his face in the pillow.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Soooo-“  Scott poked Stiles in the stomach.  “Have you and Derek done the frickle-frackle?  Am I laying down on post frickle-frackle?  Because, ew.”

A bright flush crossed Stiles’ face.  The echoed pain in Stiles’ stomach was quickly replaced by the phantom heat of Derek’s body, on top of Stiles’.  Memories of the night before raced through his mind.  Thoughts of what they’d be doing that evening sent a shiver down his spine.  He cleared his throat, kicking at Scott’s foot.   “Really, Scott?  Frickle-Frackle?  You couldn’t just say “fuck”?”

“Dude-“  Scott narrowed his eyebrows.  “Watch your goddamn language.  We’re werewolves, not swearwolves.”

Stiles allowed a brief smile to cross his face.  He snorted, rolling his eye and smacking Scott over the head with a pillow.

A deeper red crackle ran along Stiles’ iris.

+++++

Satomi Ito sipped her tea from the comfort of her woodland home, watching the wind whip the leaves into a frenzied dance.  The scent of fear caught her nose, and she let out a gentle sigh. 

Satomi’s old, wrinkled face eased backward, leaning into her rocking chair.  She shut her eyes, allowing the sun to warm her frail, aging figure.  “You may enter.”

Hovering at the back deck of her home, a pair of teenagers exchanged nervous glances.

“Alpha?”  The first of the two, a tall, muscled teenager, bowed to one knee.  Brett Telbot, her ward of fifteen years now, and a Sophomore at Devenford Prep was always quite the honorable wolf, well on his way to great things in their world.   “We’re sorry to bother you.  There’s a man on the phone who wishes to speak to you.”

Kira Yukimura, daughter of a dear friend, currently undergoing training under Satomi to control her abilities as a Kitsune, stepped forward.  Her gentle face smiled, presenting Satomi with a cordless phone as her long black hair whipped in the wind.  “A man named Noah.  He knew your number, so-  I assumed he was someone you would want to speak with?”

Satomi smiled, nodding as she took the phone.  “Thank you, both.  If I may have some privacy?”

As the teenagers left, shutting the door behind them, Satomi brought the phone to her ear.  “Noah, it’s been quite some time.”  She took a deep breath of the foul smelling air.  “Based on the stench reaching my cabin, may I assume your birth-pack finally found you after all of these years?”

 


	13. One for a Friend

Stiles learned by the end of the first week of his father’s training that there was, indeed, a hell worse than Derek Hale’s boot camp.  Even the twins, beaten through years of the Alpha Pack’s regimen, struggled to keep up, quick to claim Noah was more intense than Ennis or Kali had ever been.

Hours of running at top speeds, from three in the morning, until the crack of dawn.  Weight training built for werewolves, for max muscle gain.  Combat training with partners for the rest of the time, resulting in broken limbs, bloody noses, and more than one trip to Deaton’s clinic for healing. 

Even their diets had been heavily monitored, to ensure maximum growth in every area, eating until they were sick.

By far, it was the worst week of Stiles’ life. 

Yet, there was no denying the results. 

Stiles huffed and puffed, in the wooded outskirts of the Hale Property.  While his fellow Betas trained with the Twins, and Derek focused his efforts with Noah, Stiles and Erica were in the midst of their 19th battle, with Deaton observing from a safe distance.  Stiles fought shirtless, where his soft muscle had been hammered into hardened lines, skin tough as metal.  Across the way, training in a tank top and shorts, Erica’s body had been transformed much the same, but with much more volume than Stiles could have hoped for.

“Move your butt, Stiles!  Ten more bouts to go!”  Erica shouted, wiping off the bead of sweat from her forehead.  Her eyes flashed gold, before slowly melting into a hot, candy-red glow. 

Stiles nodded, gulping.  He focused, shut his eyes, and opened them to reveal a pair of maroon-colored eyes.  “Let’s go!”

Erica dashed ahead in a blink, her claws striking Stiles on the shoulder before he could even ready himself.  They were met with instant resistance, thanks to Stiles’ week of training, and left little more than a surface level scratch. 

Growling, Stiles shot his leg up, where it met Erica’s forearm.  The impact forced the trees all around them to shudder, forcing a few branches to crack under the weight.

Erica follows up, grabbing Stiles’ leg, and spinning him around her, before chucking him across the clearing. 

Stiles landed on a tree, horizontally, attaching his clawed feet to the wood for balance.  He adjusted his footing, before using the tree as leverage and blasting himself off towards Erica.  As he flew through the air, claws unhinged for his latest attack, the world around him flickered and faded.

The forest was gone.  Erica was gone.

No, he was in Deaton’s Vet Clinic again.  He was flying towards Aiden.  Derek was…  Dead.  On the ground, bleeding out.  Laughter.  Cruel, cold laughter.

“Stiles!”  Erica screamed.

Blinking back into reality, Stiles winced, covering his abdomen.  He curled into a ball mid-flight, crashing onto the ground next to Erica, hearing a quiet “snap” on his shoulder as he finally landed.  Stiles opened his eyes, now merely a honey-brown hue.  His heart raced, patting his stomach multiple times, feeling for blood that wasn’t there.

“Lost your focus again, huh?”  Erica said as she plopped down on the ground next to Stiles.  She helped Stiles up to a sitting position, before inspecting his shoulder.  “Yeah, that’s going to take a few minutes to heal.  Let’s take a break.”

“Yeah-“  Stiles muttered, clearing his throat.  “Yeah, let’s…  Let’s do that.” 

They sat in shared silence, as Erica crossed her legs, and took several deep, harmonizing breaths.  The red from her eyes faded, returning her borrowed power back to Derek, as they were supposed to.

Stiles sighed, falling backward and using the soft grass as a pillow.  “How are you so good at this?  You’ve been Derek’s left hand for just a week, and you’re already a freaking master at it.”

Erica giggled, reaching out with her left arm and patting Stiles on the shoulder.  Unlike Stiles’ mark of ivy and blooms that inked his right hand, Erica’s left mark of long vines was accompanied with sharp thorns, dotted with red dots of blood, and only a single triskelion, at the top of her left hand.  “Because you’re too lost in your own head.  Remember what Deaton said?  For me, I have to focus on eliminating enemies of the Pack, and you have to focus on protecting the Pack.  We do that, and we can pull power from Derek all we want.”  She cocked her head, eyeing Stiles up and down.  “To be honest, sweet cheeks, I thought you’d be pretty good at this.”

She gave Stiles “the look.”  The one everyone in the Pack had been given him since the attack.  Their gaze was something between pity, concern, and disappointment.  With a healthy dose of “what the hell is wrong with you” thrown in for good measure.

Stiles shrugged her off.  He clutched his stomach.  “I just-  I have a lot of other thoughts, too.”

“Then focus on just ONE thought about the pack.”  Erica playfully slugged Stiles on the shoulder, with a mischievous smile crossing her lips.  She began to speak, in a low, sultry tone.  “Maybe picture you and Derek in bed together, hands ever so close to each other’s most… sensitive areas?  His sleepy little face and yours, inches away from each other, wrapped in each other’s arms?  In those cute little pink boxer briefs of his?  Then, just imagine an armed intruder coming through the door, about to ruin your perfect evening of passionate lovemaking!”  She fanned herself with her right hand, over-exaggerating her own take on “the vapors.”

“How do you know about Derek’s pink underwear?”  Stiles rose an eyebrow. 

“I have my sources,”  Erica smirked, reaching over and pecking a chaste kiss on Stiles’ cheek.  “I’m going to go grab us some water and a snack.  Rest up, honeybuns.  Focus on protecting your boyfriend, Scott, Isaac, anybody, I don’t really care.  Just get that image in your mind and focus on being Derek’s Right Hand.”  She hopped up, winking at Stiles before she left.  “Toughen up, or I’m going to win all of our fights today.  Again.”

Stiles sighed, groaning quietly to himself.  The sounds of combat all around him sent a wave of nausea through Stiles’ gut.  With each grunt, yelp, or otherwise cry of pain from his pack, Stiles found himself farther and farther away from his own head.  All he could see was Aiden’s red eyes, Ennis’ callous laugh, and his father’s black claws shredding another person’s heart.  All he could feel was the pain in his stomach, the chill of death, and the thoughts of every single regret in his life.  Stiles refused to shake.  He dug his claws deep into the earth, willing away the visions that haunted his mind.

_“You have to move on.  You have to get past this.  Everyone is fighting.  Everyone’s afraid.  Quit being such a useless wimp and…  Man up!”_

Despite his mental bravado, his body did not respond in kind.

“Hanging in there?” 

Stiles flinched, swinging his head upright.  He spotted Isaac, black and blue from the waist up, clutching a broken arm.  Though, much like Stiles, the once soft and underweight Isaac had been transformed, into a lean, healthier looking version of himself.  The bruises were already in the midst of healing as Isaac sat down next to Stiles, while the Beta shoved his bones back into their proper place.

“Barely.  Erica could kick my ass as a Beta, now that she’s a left hand, she’s twice as strong.”  Stiles muttered.  “How about you?”

 “The twins are brutal.  Way stronger than any of the Betas, and they’re not giving us any slack.”  Isaac groaned, leaning back and using Stiles for support.  Wordlessly, they laid on top of each other, with Isaac using Stiles’ stomach as a makeshift pillow.  “Your Dad is Satan, by the way.  Literally Satan.  I would give anything to have Drill Sergeant Derek back.”

Stiles chuckled, reaching up and placing his hand on Isaac’s bare chest.  Black veins protruded from Stiles’ skin, as he aided Isaac in the healing process.  “I mean…  Dad was a marine for a few years and then went through Police Training.  I’m sure he’s amped things up a bit for werewolves.”

“The Twins say it’s as tough as Alpha Pack training.”  Isaac watched his injuries fade one by one, flexing his once-broken arm with ease.  “I get the feeling your dad’s got a shady past.  Like, he’s not lying to any of us, but I can totally hear him being deceptive.  Half-lies, almost…  Dude is creepy.  No offense.”

“None taken.”  Stiles bit his lip.  No bones about it, Noah knew Deucalion on some level, and having the skills to kill a member of the Alpha pack like Ennis…  There were too many questions they needed answers for but weren’t about to get answers anytime soon.

Isaac sat up, taking a deep breath.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Speaking of your Dad-  Are you…  Doing okay with him?  Like, you know, the whole “dad being back in your life again” kind of thing?”

 _“Another sore point.”_ Stiles sat up beside Isaac.  They both started off far into the distance, watching Noah and Derek duke it out. 

Derek stood several feet above Noah and outweighed him by plenty, and yet, Noah routed Derek’s every punch, swipe, and kick with ease.  Derek found himself pinned, over, and over again, with a pair of claws wrapped around the Alpha’s neck, as a reminder of the threat of death that loomed over each of them.

Stiles shook off the sight of his father, knowing he had enough issues to deal with already, and his daddy issues were not going to be the cherry on that particular shit cake.

 “I’m dealing with it,”  Stiles mumbled, shrugging it off.

“Then-“  Isaac reached over, covering Stiles’ hand with his own.  “Something else is bothering you.”

“Yeah.  Impending death by God-Alpha tends to do that to people.”  Stiles snapped, turning away from Isaac’s gaze.  There was that “look” again.

Isaac gripped Stiles’ hand tighter.  “I keep smelling your despair, and it’s really bothering me.  That smell is different than the fear of the Alpha Pack.  They’re separate.”

“What?!”  Stiles scooted away from Isaac, quickly covering the pulse point in his neck.  “I smell like sweat, maybe.  Maybe some embarrassment, given that Erica keeps kicking my butt!”

“Stiles-“  Isaac shook his head, tucking his chin just above his knees as he curled into himself.  “We’re all getting stronger, physically, but we’re also getting better with our natural talents as wolves because of that training.  My nose about a thousand times better than it already was, and I can pick up on just about any emotional smell, so please don’t bullshit me.”  He gulped, biting at his lips. “All your scent glands are firing “danger” signals.  As in, you’re about to jump off a cliff to end it all, kind of “danger” signals.”

Stiles slammed his eyes shut.  He tried to focus on his emotions, only to lose control of them entirely. 

God knows how he smelled at that moment, but the quiet whimpering from Isaac beside him was enough to know it wasn’t a pleasant smell.  Opening his mouth to speak, Stiles couldn’t find the words.

What was there to say? 

There was no way he could lie his way out of this one, Isaac’s ears were on par with his nose.  No amount of wit or sarcasm could get him out of this.

Instead, Stiles shut his mouth.  He took in a deep breath and merely shrugged in Isaac’s direction.

“I mean if it helps anything…”  Isaac whimpered, quietly moving to Stiles’ side. “I got Ethan, the nice one, to tell me what his brother did to you and Derek.  I know exactly what Aiden did to you.  I can’t imagine you going through this kind of training after you went through…  That.”

Another pain shot through Stiles’ gut. 

Isaac slid behind Stiles, tucking his fellow Beta closer, letting Stiles’ head rest on Isaac’s heart.  “I know it doesn’t seem like it.  Trust me, when the therapist Derek sent me to said this, I thought they were crazy, but- If you vocalize what happened to you, and talk through it, the healing can start.  Then, when this is all said and done, I think you might want to go with me and visit my werewolf therapist.  She’s Deaton’s sister and knows all about our kind, so-  You won’t have to lie!”

Isaac’s steady heartbeat anchored Stiles, and the familiar scent of pack met his nose.

Despite feeling calmer than he’d been moments earlier, Stiles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.  “I don’t think it works that way, Isaac.  Not…  Not with this.”

Isaac reached around, embracing Stiles in a tight hug.  “What happened to you was…  Beyond torture, Stiles.  You watched Derek almost die in front of your eyes.  They threatened your family.  You were made into a human kebab, thrown away like garbage, and left for dead.  All for a stupid pair of eyes.”  A set of fresh tears dripped slowly onto Stiles’ bare shoulder.  “You cannot bottle that up.  It’ll destroy you.  Trust me, I-  I know.“

Stiles struggled for air.  He found it hard to open his mouth, to say, anything, really.  He ground his teeth, demanding his body to shake this shit off.  _“Do not fall apart.  They’re fighting for you Stiles, to save your life, and you’re sitting here, scared and whimpering like a child!  None of this matters!  What happened to you doesn’t matter!  All that matters right now is keeping everyone alive and safe!”_

Isaac smiled, pressing his face into the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“Don’t think that way.  Your feelings matter.”

Stiles felt his eyes widen, as he turned around to meet Isaac’s golden eyes.  He hadn’t said any of that aloud. 

“Told you my nose was getting good.”  Isaac shook his head, with a gentle smile.  He shot up, grabbing Stiles’ hands and forcing him to a standing position.  “Would you tell me that my feelings didn’t matter, all those months ago?  That I should just stuff my feelings, and be happy just being part of a pack?”

“No,”  Stiles mumbled, under his breath.

Isaac wrapped his arm around Stiles’ neck.  “Then don’t say it to yourself.”

“Are you two done?”

Isaac and Stiles raised their heads, meeting Erica’s piercing gaze.  She tossed both of them a bottle of water and a protein bar.

Erica cracked her knuckles.  “Hurry up, Stiles.  We need to get you in the Alpha Zone, and fast.”

A quick smirk crossed Isaac’s face.  He downed the bottle of water and smashed most of the snack into his mouth in one go.  Isaac stretched his legs and feet, smirking.  “How about I join you two?  I could use a break from Ethan and Aiden.  I’ll be on Stiles’ team.”

Stiles rose an eyebrow, speaking with his mouthful of a protein bar.  “You realize Erica’s as bad as the twins?”

“Yeah, I know.”  Isaac winked in Stiles’ direction.  “Trust me.”

Shrugging, Stiles finished off his water and joined Isaac’s side on the grassy field.  He cracked his neck back and forth, taking in a deep breath.  “Alright.  Let’s go!”

Erica nodded, unhinging her claws.  She took a deep breath, focused, and rose her head, presenting a pair of cherry-red eyes.  Her inked left hand began to glow, and her body began to ripple with power.  She gave neither Beta an inch, kicking off the ground in extreme speed, aiming for Stiles.

Stiles shifted but flinched at the sight of Erica’s sharp claws aiming right at him.  His eyes flickered red for a moment, before settling back to gold.  He hitched his breath, bracing for impact.

Yet, the pain, the fear, and the cold laughter didn’t come.  Instead, a warm hand briefly touched Stiles’ neck, calming him down.

Isaac shot from behind Stiles, putting itself between Stiles and Erica.  His bare foot met Erica’s forearm, forcing a shockwave to reverberate between them.  The impact forced both Erica and Isaac to fling backward, with Erica catching herself on the grass, and Isaac being caught in Stiles’ arms.

Erica smirked, chuckling in Isaac’s direction.  “Look who went and made himself useful in battle!”

Shaking off the impact, Isaac offered Stiles a wink.  “You’re not alone.  We’ve got your back.  All of us.”  Isaac shook off the attack, curling his hands into tight fists.  He shifted, snarling back at Stiles.  “You going to help me, or am I going to have to fight her all by myself?”

Stiles’ heart raced.  There was still fear and plenty of it.  His stomach still churned, cold with the phantom pain of Aiden’s claws ripping through him.  Fear of loss, fear of pain, fear of everything… 

Yet, the warmth beside him from Isaac.  The smell of the pack from all over the field, with their many different earthy tones…  The sound of their heartbeats…

Raising his head, Stiles opened his eyes, to reveal a pair of maroon eyes, stable in their glow.  His right arm’s markings began to bloom in color.

“I’m here for you.”  Stiles grinned, nodding in Isaac’s direction.

The duo held their own for several minutes against Erica.  They ended in what could charitably be called a “draw,” though Stiles’ broken leg and Isaac’s broken arm, compared against Erica’s tiny scratch…  There was little doubting that Erica’s reign as Queen would be ending anytime soon.

 

+++++

 

A simple room.  Wooden floors and walls, with the scent of pine.  A window encompassing an entire wall, where a full-on blizzard ravaged the frigid countryside. 

Noah recalled the quick punches and kicks he slung against his opponent in this room, him a sixteen-year-old with the body of a full-grown man, his opponent, barely twelve, with the figure of a child.  Neither of those facts was enough to pull the punch that slammed into the younger boy’s face and flung his limp body across the room, where it would crash into the jutted wood of their cabin.

“You fail.  **Again**.  You didn’t even land a single hit, and you let me land a critical blow.”  Noah wiped the blood from his knuckles, glancing across the room to see a bloody, broken nose, and the quiet whimpering of the child.  “Duke, how many times am I going to tell you to duck?  You’re lucky I didn’t have my claws out like Father would have.  Hell, if I’d followed up on that last attack, I could have my claws in you in ten seconds flat.”

Wiping away the tears from his eyes and the blood from his nose, Duke immediately pouted, stomping across the room.  “You’re too fast!”

“Then get faster!  Spend some time out in the woods, bettering yourself, and quit spending all your time in the study!  Books are not going to get you out of this!”  Noah screamed, pointing to the harsh winter landscape outside. 

Duke flinched at the volume, head dropping.  Tears fell, staining the child’s bare feet.

Noah sighed, reaching out to calm his own trembling fist.  Fear ravaged Noah on a daily basis, watching Duke struggle with the most straightforward combat training.  There wasn’t much time left.  Not near enough time.  “If you think you can pass our family’s Test like this, then you’re wrong.  Father doesn’t care if you’re his own blood, he can and will fail you, and if you fail, your life is forfeit.  That is Tribal Law, Duke.  Every werewolf on the planet follows it.”

 _“I had to go through this when I was thirteen, too.  It doesn’t get any easier from here.”_ Noah thought, as his eyes flashed a passionate red.   

“All of this is stupid!  Father’s Test is too hard!”  Duke’s tears intensified, as he fell to the ground, sitting cross-legged.  He hid his face from Noah, covering it with both hands.  “Why do I even have to fight?  You’re father’s oldest son, so you’re going to be Alpha of the Alphas anyway…  What does it matter what I do?”

Noah plopped down beside his younger brother.  “We’re a Pack of Alphas, Duke.  We’re the strongest creatures on this planet, at the highest peak of the food chain.  We bear the burden of protecting our kind from the Hunters that wish to slay us for merely existing.  We were born to fight and kill, to give our lives to protect those who cannot protect themselves.  That is the purpose of the Alpha Pack, brother.  We cannot escape it, no matter how much we wish it were true.”

Duke wiped the last of his tears.  He turned his head, facing Noah with his own pair of sharp red eyes.  “The way father tells it, we protect those who fill his pockets the best.”

“We’ve strayed from the path, I have to admit.”  Noah shook his head, ashamed of the many packs and tribes they’d turned their backs on over the years, simply for being “backwater.”  The death count from the Hunters would only grow over time if they continued to ignore the smaller tribes and even the individual packs that dotted the country.  “Father is much more selfish than Grandpa was, too bitter about our humble beginnings, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is our strongest Alpha.”  Sighing, Noah flung backward, laying himself out on the wooden floor.  “Unless you’re willing to fight him and claim his place as Alpha of the Alphas, we can’t disobey him, Duke.  His orders are absolute, no matter how much we might want to.”  Noah’s eyes wandered, glancing at the blizzard that continued to ravage their homeland.

Duke stayed seated, reaching over and clasping Noah’s hand.  “Father still won’t let you see that girl from the Western Tribe?  The one who came to offer that delicious meal as payment for our services?”

“No.”  Noah slammed his eyes shut, hiding the raging glow of his eyes.  There was no sense in yearning for that beautiful woman with the brown hair, and the moles that dotted her body like stars in the sky.  “Their pack is too small.  He refuses to allow any of his Pack to “marry down.  Especially not his oldest son.”  Noah felt a sharp cold in his stomach.  “They’ll have me mate with someone before I turn 18, I’m sure.  Father wants grandchildren he can train himself, so I’m sure pups won’t be far off from that.”

“None of this is fair!”  Duke slammed his fist on the wooden floor, doing little more than a dent.  “You’re not allowed to court Miss Claudia.  You’re forbidden from doing anything but father’s bidding, you train every day of your life from dawn until dusk, and you weren’t even allowed to finish high school!  Everything about your life is all about father, from when you eat, to who you’ll marry and have children with!”  The child trembled, as fresh tears began to flow down his face.  “Mother is cheated on every day of her life, simply because she cannot bear any other children, his bastard offspring are everywhere, simply because father wishes for a “glorious empire.”

Noah reached out, grasping Noah’s wrist.  “Don’t.  Don’t do this to yourself again, Duke.  Throwing a tantrum isn’t going to solve anything.”

Duke threw away Noah’s grasp, beginning to blubber as he spoke.  “I’m not allowed to read my favorite books anymore!  I’ve been forbidden to attend high school or college, take a mate, have children, learn a profession, or live my life at all.  I’m a slave to this damn pack for the rest of my life!  I…  I wish I’d never been born an Alpha!  I wish I’d never been born a werewolf!  I wish I’d never been born!”

Noah ignored the pain in his chest.  He watched his baby brother sobbing in a heap, quickly devolving into a full-blown breakdown.  The scent of unbridled despair, the yearning of death, and the sharp tang of anger melded into a decaying smell that forced Noah to recoil.

Every fiber of Noah’s being wanted to reach out and comfort the boy. 

To coddle and protect Duke from their father and the cruel world they’d been born into.

To be his brother’s friend, and tell him everything would be okay. 

That someday, things would be different.

To not give up on hope. 

That he wasn’t alone.

Yet, Noah stood over the crying child, watching in cold silence, balling his hand into a fist. 

As much as he wanted to say those things, lying to Duke would only make things more difficult in the end.    

 _“One day your dreams will die like mine did.  Then it won’t hurt so much.  I wish there were more I could tell you.”_   Noah pushed away from the sadness.  His duty to Duke was to ensure he survived to see a fourteenth birthday.  A rare feat in the Alpha Pack, but one he would make sure would happen.  His brother deserved that much from Noah, at the very least.

“We need to get back to training.  Father will be here soon to observe.”  Noah reached out, wiping Duke’s tears with the end of his sleeve.  “Start memorizing the patterns of my attack.  Learn when to duck.  We need to show some progress, or you’ll be in trouble.”

Begrudgingly, Duke stood.  They moved to the center of the training room, each taking their own position.  Noah watched Duke’s cold, almost robotic movements.

 “I wish father were dead,”  Duke muttered.

Noah stopped, catching the red glow of Duke’s eyes.  They were…  Darker.  As though a part of his little brother had died that day.

 _“I’m sorry.”_ Noah thought, shaking off the guilt that clung to his chest.

Duke raised his fists, as tears continued to rush down his face, one after another.  “I wish…  I wish I were strong enough to kill father myself.  I’d get rid of all our stupid laws.  I’d let everyone do whatever they wanted!  I’d let you be with Claudia.  I’d let our mother be free to find a real man to love her.  I’d…  ”  Duke’s tears dried up as he tightened his fists. “I’d never let anyone be the boss of me or you, ever again.  EVER again.”

Noah stepped backward, as a chill ran down his spine.  He bit down on his lip, shaking off the eerie feeling in his stomach.  _“If this is what inspires him to take training seriously…”_

“Then learn to duck my punches if you ever want that to come true,”  Noah whispered.

Duke’s eyes widened, his heartbeat now racing at Noah’s words.

“You’ll need to be as strong as thousands of Alphas to make that happen,”  Noah said, his eyes blazing to life.  “-baby steps, Duke.”

Duke tightened his fists.  He nodded back to Noah, taking an offensive stance.  “Then I’ll do it.”

 

**“Sheriff?”**

 

Noah blinked.  His little brother and his tribal home vanished, replaced by Derek Hale and the outskirts of Beacon Forest.  Derek’s red eyes glimmered in the sun, the same shade as Duke’s had been, back in those tender, years.  Back before darkness overtook them.

“Sorry about that.”  Noah sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead.  He took stock of Derek’s many bruises, and what he suspected was a broken rib or two.  They’d been training on how to fight through major pain, and the young Alpha was making great strides.  Yet, he could see the stress mounting in Derek’s eyes.  He chuckled, glancing down at his bare chest, which was no stranger to some of Derek’s more serious punches, dotted with black and blue bruises.  “Let’s take five.  You’re wearing an old man out.”

“I’m wearing you out?”  Derek rolled his eyes, falling down onto the grass with a pained grunt.  “Fuck off.”

Noah joined Derek’s side, glancing off in the distance, watching as Stiles, Reyes, and Lahey continued their combat training.  Stiles was slowly getting the handle on maintaining an Alpha State, and the Lahey kid wasn’t doing that bad of a job of keeping pace with a couple of Alphas.  Eventually, he turned back to Derek, eyeing the man’s shirtless form.

“You’re still too slow.  We’ll drop combat training tomorrow, and add another 20 miles to your roadwork.  You need to get used to your new muscle weighing you down.”  Noah shut his eyes, shaking off the memories of the past.  “If you can’t duck my punch, you have no hopes of ducking Duke’s.”

“Yes, Sir.”  Derek nodded, without question.

Noah smiled.  The Hale kid was young but wasn’t an idiot.  When it came to training, the Alpha was serious about protecting his pack and protecting Stiles.  He’d known plenty of other Alphas who’d folded after a single day of old-school Alpha Pack training.  Derek had gone a week and was still going strong. 

 _“I like this kid.  Wish I’d met him years ago.  Could have made something out of him when he probably needed it most.”_ Noah thought to himself, shaking off even more regret that weighed on his heart.

“So- You and my son, huh?”  Noah decided a change of subject was in order, if only for his mental health.

“Yes, Sir.”  Derek rose to a sitting position.  “We’re mates, Sir.  When this is all over, I’d like to court him properly.  Right now, we’re just…  Exploring our relationship.”  A red blush crossed Derek’s face, and he quickly gulped.  “Not like that!”

Noah chuckled, patting Derek on the shoulder.  “Relax, Hale.  I know what you meant.”  He paused, realizing that Derek knew of proper courtship.  He’d been a born wolf in this new generation, after all…  Perhaps there were other things he might know.  “You know, back in my day, Alpha males or Alpha females dating a same-sex werewolf were unheard of.  Not for bigoted reasons, of course, but it did make carrying on the family name a little more difficult.  Most tribes just outright outlawed it.”  Another through struck Noah, as images of Laura’s body in the crime lab ran through his head.  “You realize the Hale line will die like this?”

 “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”  Derek shrugged, dropping his head.  “There are plenty of solutions, I’m sure, and Stiles will probably be the one to figure it out months before I do.  My family would want me to be happy in the end, but…  I don’t know, mom and dad weren’t big on family bloodlines anyway.”

“That’s a good attitude to have about it.”  Noah rose an eyebrow.  _“Not big on bloodlines?  What has happened in the world in the last decade?  Bloodlines were everything!”_ He shook off his mental shock, choosing instead to chuckle on the outside.  “Hell, back in my day, mates were chosen.”

Derek nodded.  “That’s what mom told me.  The Hales used to be part of a Southern Tribe, a huge one, she and Dad were paired together when they were young, I think like thirteen or fourteen, but-”  He dropped his head, sighing quietly.  “Of course, with Duke running around, all the big tribes went extinct.  The remnants just sort of…  Scattered.  Just little pocket packs here and there.  Mom, Dad, and my Uncle Peter ran to Beacon Hills and started blending in with human society.  Mom was a lawyer, Dad was a stay-at-home kind of guy, and Uncle Peter did something with Finance.  They quit living like traditional werewolves, and enforced all of us to do the same.”  Derek smiled.  “Before the fire, I thought about being a basketball coach.  I really liked playing as a kid.  Mom and Dad were all about me doing that.”

Noah glanced at Derek, now realizing why the son of an Alpha like Talia would be so…  Coddled.  Untrained… “Your parents never raised you or your siblings by Tribal Law?”

“I guess not.”  Derek took a deep breath, glancing up at the wide open sky.  “Mom and Dad never really talked about their old tribes.  All they said is that we’re better off doing our own thing.  Staying under the radar, out of Duke’s eyes, and…  Just living.  Mom always talked about how lucky my sisters and I were that we were born in this generation because we didn’t have to go through all the stuff she and Dad went through as kids.  I guess that Tribal Law stuff was pretty harsh?”

“You could say that,”  Noah muttered.

“Huh.”  Derek nodded along.  “I guess it’s good that it’s long gone then, huh?”

Noah hung his head in silence.


End file.
